


The Imperfectly Perfect Fairytale

by thewriterinallofus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, Christmas Eve, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mistletoe, Murder, Romance, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterinallofus/pseuds/thewriterinallofus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper is the newest student at Appledore Academy. Despite being seventeen, she still dreams of her Prince Charming coming to sweep her off her feet. Sherlock Holmes is not Prince Charming, but may be the one for whom Molly is waiting. Teen!lock Sherlolly. Sort of AU-ish, a little cracky, and a lot of fluff. Reposted and updated from FFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Appledore

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first fanfic I ever wrote, and I'm bringing it over from Fanfiction.net, with a few corrections and alterations, though nothing major. This is a Teen!lock Sherlolly story. I was unbetaed and unBrit-picked, so any and all mistakes are mine (feel free to point out any you notice). Also, this was mostly a fluffy, feel-good fic designed to give you (mostly) happy feels. It's rated T for later mentions of teen drinking, and sensual/sexual mentions/innuendos. Nothing is explicit. The ships are Sherlolly, Jary, and Mystade because I can. Hope you all enjoy reading. Updates will be fairly rapid (i.e. several in one night, depending on how much free time I have).  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All rights to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Molly Hooper, though she was in highschool, still believed in fairy tales. She was seventeen, and though she’d had a boyfriend once for a few weeks, she’d never been kissed. She was certain that her Prince Charming would come to sweep her off her feet. That dream, at least in part, was shattered the moment she stepped into Appledore Academy.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes and his best friend, John Watson, stepped off the train, luggage in tow.

“Another year of my parents’ money being wasted,” Sherlock grumbled.

John jokingly punched him in the arm. “Oh, come on, Sherlock. It won’t be that bad.”

Sherlock scoffed. “That’s what you think. Headmaster Magnussen has it in for me. Actually, I think Professor Hudson is the only professor who actually likes me. And she’s the only professor I actually like.”

“The home ec teacher?”

“She lets me keep some of my experiments in her fridge,” Sherlock explained nonchalantly.

John rolled his eyes, and then spotted a shock of silver hair. “Greg,” John called, waving the boy over.

“John! Sherlock!” The boy ran over, and grabbed the two in a hug. When he pulled away, a knowing look passed between Sherlock and Greg. Just at the end of last year, Sherlock had confronted Greg about his closeted homosexuality.

* * *

_“Greg, you’re a homosexual, aren’t you,” Sherlock had stated rather abruptly, while the two were studying late in the library._

_Greg had shushed him. “I don’t want the whole world knowing.”_

_“Greg, I don’t have a problem with it. I just want to know why you’re hiding it.”_

_The silver haired boy had cleared his throat. “I...I don’t think my father will approve. It might...tarnish the family name, you know?”_

_Sherlock had rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s your life. You should be able to make your own decisions, but if you insist, mum’s the word. I promise.”_

* * *

The look now shared between the two boys was an acknowledgement that Sherlock’s promise was still intact.

“Thank God I found you,” Greg moaned. “My baby cousin Phillip’s girlfriend has reached high school. I’ve never seen two kids swap so much spit.”

Phillip Anderson was a sophomore this year, and his girlfriend, Sally Donovan, was now a freshman. As if on command from Greg’s declaration, the two walked around the corner, the epitome of sickening young love.

“Get a room,” John called out mockingly.

“John, please don’t encourage them,” Sherlock pleaded. “There’s already too much stupid in the room.”

John and Greg for once agreed with Sherlock’s caustic observation, and the trio marched off in the direction of the Academy.

* * *

Molly stood amongst a swarm of her new peers, trying to gain her bearings. She had been placed in the East Wing dormitories, with someone named “M. Morstan” as her roommate. The only problem was, Molly had no clue where she was, with no clue as to how to find the East Wing dormitories.

Suddenly, a short girl, with a pretty, round face and cropped blonde hair, tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you lost, sweetie?”

Molly nodded. The girl gave her a warm smile. “My name’s Mary. Mary Morstan. Yours?”

The brunette grinned. “Molly Hooper, and I do believe I am your roommate.”

Mary grinned. “Great! Welcome to Appledore! Come on! Off to East Wing!”

* * *

Sherlock found himself in East Wing, Baker Hall, Room 221, rooming of course with John. Seniors at Appledore got the “perk” of being in the only co-ed wing of the building.

As he laid on his bed, he heard a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” John said. He opened the door to meet Mary and Molly.

John pecked Mary on the lips. The blonde giggled, and turned to her new friend and roommate. “Molly, this is my boyfriend, John, and that,” she pointed, indicating the other occupant of Room 221, “is Sherlock.”

John invited the girls in, and he sat on his bed with Mary. Molly took a seat in the swivel chair by the desk.

“So,” John asked. “Where are you from, Molly?”

“I’m from…”

“...Northamptonshire.” Sherlock finished.

Molly was flabbergasted. She’d never met this boy. “How...how did you know?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and stood before Molly, scanning her up and down. “Your accent alone proves you’re from Northamptonshire. You are the eldest of two, and take your role of eldest very seriously. Your...sister is still in primary school. You have no pets, due to your mother’s allergy, but you wish you could have a cat. You also plan to study pathology in university. You’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than five weeks, nor have you ever been kissed.”

Molly stared at him. “You...how did…”

“I observe.” He laid back down.

Molly sat speechless. “Don’t worry,” John assured her. “He does that to everyone.”

Molly nodded. Just then, there was another knock at the door. Mary stood and opened it. Molly watched as a silver-haired boy munching on a doughnut sauntered in. He smirked as he took notice of the confused look on Molly’s face.

“Sherlock, get to you then, love? Don’t worry. He’s like that to everyone. Rest assured, the other guys here at Appledore at least have some manners.”

Molly nodded soberly. The silver-haired boy extended his hand. “Greg Lestrade.”

The brunette took it. “Molly Hooper.”

“Welcome to Appledore.”

* * *

Molly couldn’t sleep that night. She’d always felt self-conscious, but she’d never felt as exposed as when Sherlock had laid her entire life bare.

Despite his asinine behavior, Molly was intrigued by the raven-haired boy in Room 221. Sherlock was the opposite of boyfriend material, yet he held a mysterious charm. Molly supposed his charm laid in his intelligence. His eyes, like swirling oceans of blue, green, and gold, had burnt their gaze into her soul.

That night, Molly’s dreams were haunted by the anti-Prince Charming, who had somehow stolen her heart. 


	2. A New Team: Holmes and Hooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions aren't everything, and both Molly and Sherlock realize that there is more to the other than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit longer, and more heavily edited from what is currently on FFN. I hope you enjoy! Triggers for brief mentions of suicide and murder.

The next day, classes began. Molly dressed fairly conservatively, her modest clothes in varying earth tones. The only loud article of clothing were her hot pink Chucks.

Mary, conversely, was dressed to reveal as much skin as the dress code allowed, in vibrant colors.

Seeing Molly debating about the braid she’d put in her hair, Mary cried, “Come on, Molly! We’re going to be late!”

“For a first period study hall?”

Mary chuckled. “I want as much time as possible to gossip!”

Molly sighed affectionately and grabbed her bag.

* * *

“So, you really don’t think that pathology is a strange career path,” Molly asked incredulously. Everyone who’d ever asked about her future plans had given the girl a strange look, usually followed by a harsh comment.

“Oh, hell no. That’s one of the more normal professions I’ve ever heard. I mean, at least you’re not Sherlock; he’s going to be a ‘consulting detective.’”

Molly brow furrowed. “A consulting what?”

“Detective,” Mary replied, her voice laced with false admiration. “Claims he invented the job. Apparently, he expects the police to consult him when they are out of their element, which, according to him, they always are.”

“Well that’s...different.”

Mary snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. Still, I’ll never complain. He’s already help the police put away some absolute freaks.”

Molly pursed her lips and looked away.

Mary narrowed her eyes in concern. “What’s the matter?”

Molly bit her lip. “I’m not fond of that word. I think that it’s destructive. Everyone called the last boy I dated a freak, because of his plan for world domination. He ended up putting a gun in his mouth.”

“Oh my gosh, Molly,” Mary exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Molly replied, waving Mary’s comment off. “We don’t all have Sherlock’s deductive skills.”

The girls sat in a heavy silence for a time.

Hoping to lighten the mood, Molly quickly changed the subject. “So, how long have you and John been together?”

Mary grinned. “Nearly two years. So has anyone here caught your fancy?”

Despite the fact that her mind flickered to a certain raven-haired boy, Molly retorted, “I haven’t even been here a day.”

“I know Greg’s single,” Mary pressed.

Molly felt her cheeks flush. “Greg seems nice enough, I suppose, but, um…”

“But what?”

Molly opened her mouth to answer truthfully, but decided against it. “Nothing. Never mind.”

The blonde wasn’t about to give up. “Well, who could it be? The only other boys you’ve met are John and…” Mary’s jaw dropped and her eyes became like saucers. “Oh. My. God. No way!” The blonde squealed.

Molly flinched at the sound, and asked, “No way what?”

Mary lowered her voice. “You like Sherlock, don’t you?”

Molly blushed even redder. “No! I mean...I don’t…”

“Yes, you so do! Admit it!”

“How could I like him? I met him for fifteen minutes last night. It’s not like I know that much about him.”

“Yes, but you want to know more. He interests you. I call that a crush.”

Molly gave Mary a dirty look. “In that case, I must have a crush on Hippocrates.”

The blonde groaned. “You know what I mean!”

Finally, Molly nodded in defeat. “I suppose I might have a minor crush on Sherlock.”

Mary squealed in delight. “This is so exciting! I’m going to fling you two together!”

Molly bit her lip. “It’s really not worth it. I doubt Sherlock would even give me a second thought.”

Mary shook her head. “I think he would. There’s only one other person he’s deduced like that, without making some snarky, embarrassing comment. That’s John, and those two are thicker than thieves.”

“Mary, he practically told the whole room that I’m a virgin, with little to no relationship experience. He is right. I’ve never even been kissed.”

Mary wrapped an arm around the petite brunette’s shoulders. “To him that’s not a shameful thing. It’s merely a fact. He’s not judging you.”

“You’re sure?”

“He only just reached first base with his last girlfriend. Trust me, he’s a virgin, too.”

Just then, the bell rang.

* * *

Molly parted ways with Mary, and walked into her Anatomy class. The professor, a young woman in her mid-thirties, beamed when she entered. “You must be the new student, Molly Hooper.”

Molly nodded. “I am.”

“Have a seat.” She indicated an empty desk.

Molly sat down, glad she sat alone. She didn’t want to have to answer anyone’s inane questions.

The class had just begun when the door opened. Molly didn’t bother to look up.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes,” the prof said. “Late. Take your seat by Miss Hooper.”

Upon hearing her name, Molly lifted her head. “Oh great,” Molly thought. Her partner was Sherlock.

Molly realized she’d never heard Sherlock’s surname until now, and she murmured his name under her breath. He had one of those names, she decided, that just rolled off the tongue.

“Afternoon, Molly.” She merely nodded her greeting, not wanting his gorgeous eyes to turn her into a stuttering mess.

Sherlock smirked, already knowing the effect he had on Molly. “Are you aware we can leave campus for lunch?”

“Yes,” she replied, still not looking up.

“Do you have plans?”

Molly sighed, and finally turned to face Sherlock. “Yes. As I have no transportation, I plan to stay on campus.”

Sherlock hummed. Molly was just about to return to her notes, when Sherlock touched her arm. “Would you like to join me?”

Molly turned to face Sherlock once more. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to join me for lunch? We have an hour and a half.”

Mary’s words rang in Molly’s ears. “This is a perfect opportunity to get to know him a bit better,” she mused. Molly quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind joining you, but how do you figure having an hour and a half?”

Sherlock smirked. “We have thirty minutes for lunch, and we both have an hour long study hall. How quickly can you eat?”

“I don’t eat a lot for lunch. I brought some scones.”

“Good. I’m certain you’ve never had a lunch break like this before.”

* * *

Molly was worried by the mischievous glint in Sherlock’s eyes. What did he mean? Where were they going?

She met Sherlock at the back doors of the cafeteria.

“Alright, Sherlock, where are we going,” Molly asked, munching on a scone.

He smiled. “Have you ever seen a crime scene?”

She shook her head. Sherlock pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. “Greg? Yes. We’re on our way.”

Sherlock beckoned for her to follow him, and Molly walked around the corner, surprised to see Sherlock holding out a cherry red motorbike helmet to her.

“You have a motorbike,” Molly asked warily.

Sherlock grinned, and he put the helmet on Molly’s head. Then he walked over to a glossy black motorbike. He pulled on his own black helmet. “Come along, Miss Hooper.”

Molly warily climbed on behind Sherlock, and gingerly placed her hands on his sides.

“Hang on.” Sherlock revved the engine, and Molly squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a vice tight grip.

* * *

Sherlock grinned at the feel of Molly’s arms encircling his waist. Ever since his escapades with Irene, he’d basically ignored every female he’d come into contact with. Molly was the first female in two years in whom he’d even been minutely interested. She was intelligent, and though she was shy and mousy, she wasn’t superficial or transparent. She was intriguing.

* * *

“Molly, we’re here,” Sherlock announced through the intercom in the helmets.

He hopped off the bike, and helped Molly off.

“Why exactly are we at a crime scene,” Molly asked.

Leading her towards the crime scene, he replied, “Greg’s father is a detective inspector. Greg plans to follow in his footsteps. I have flawless deductive skills, and plan to be a consulting detective. You plan to study pathology. Usually, John accompanies me, but he has Advanced Calculus during this period, so I thought you might enjoy being my assistant.”

Molly’s eyes widened as they stopped at the police tape. “You mean, I’m going to help you solve a murder?”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes scrutinizing every detail of the scene.

Molly gasped in delight.

“Sherlock! Molly!” Greg ran over to where his friends were.

“Hey, Greg,” Molly called shyly. He nodded his greeting, and said, “What have you figured out, Sherlock?”

“Victim is in her late thirties, married, no children, two cats, and likely stays at home. My guess is her husband murdered her after she confronted him about his extramarital affair. Molly, cause of death?”

Molly studied the body. “Well, at first glance, I’d say blunt force trauma, but due to the petechial hemorrhaging and the nature of the blood pooling, I believe she was struck down, and then smothered.”

Sherlock grinned. “Good show, Molly.”

She blushed. “Th-thank you.”

Just then, Molly’s phone rang. She pulled it out. “Hello?”

“Molly?” Mary’s voice sounded worried. “Where are you? I thought you weren’t leaving for lunch?”

Molly blushed. “I - uh - I’m with Sherlock. On a case.”

Mary gasped. “Can he hear you?”

“Yes.”

“When you get back to our room, you’re telling me everything.”

Molly sighed. “Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up. Sherlock grinned. “When you get back tonight, make sure you make up something good. Confuse Mary.”

Molly scowled, pulling a laugh out of the aspiring consulting detective.

* * *

Molly was dreading returning to her dorm room, not wanting to explain how her lunch break had turned into a mini-excursion with Sherlock.

She somehow felt ashamed that she’d jumped at an opportunity to spend some time with her enigmatic desk partner. Perhaps it made her seem desperate?

Molly sighed. There was no avoiding it now. She opened the door, prepared for the worst.

* * *

“Sit down, grab a pack of biscuits, and tell me everything,” Mary demanded.

Molly exhaled loudly. “What specifically do you want to know?”

“Was it romantic,” the blonde asked wistfully.

“He took me for a motorbike ride, if that counts. Of course, we went to the site of a murder.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “That’s Sherlock for you. Still, you’re the only person besides John that he’s brought on a case.”

“Greg was there, too.”

Mary shook her head. “How do you think Sherlock finds out about these cases?”

Molly shrugged. “If I’ve learned anything about him in the short time I’ve known him, it’s to never assume anything about Sherlock Holmes.”

Mary nodded. “I can’t disagree with that.”

Molly bit her lip. “Does...does Sherlock hand out compliments freely?”

“Not usually. Why?”

Molly looked at the biscuit in her hands. “No reason. I was just wondering. Goodnight, Mary.”

“Goodnight, Molly.”

* * *

Sherlock opened an eye upon hearing his roommate return to their dorm.

John audibly sighed as he dropped his things to the floor. “Why am I taking Advanced Calculus again?”

“Because what the Americans refer to as ‘senioritis’ hasn’t infected you like it has the rest of us.”

John rolled his eyes. “I’d wager a bet that it’s only infected you and Greg. I heard you two cut class again.”

Sherlock rolled over to face his best friend. “First of all, you’ve cut class before to go on a case.”

“We’re in the upper sixth form. It’s the most important year,” John interrupted.

“Secondly,” Sherlock continued, “I skipped a study hall, as did Greg and Molly, so it’s technically not cutting class.”

John’s eyebrow quirked. “Excuse me, Greg and who?”

“Molly. Molly Hooper accompanied me.”

John’s jaw dropped. “Molly Hooper. As in, quiet, shy, aspiring pathologist, Molly Hooper? As in my girlfriend Mary’s roommate Molly Hooper?”

“Yes. THAT Molly Hooper! Do you know another Molly Hooper?”

John stared at his roommate, a dopey grin plastered to his face. “You realize that this is the first girl you’ve shown any interest in since…”

“Yes, I realize, John,” Sherlock snapped. If no one ever uttered the name “Irene Adler” again, it wouldn’t be soon enough.

John grinned. “So, you like Molly?”

Sherlock relaxed a bit, glad the topic of discussion had moved from Irene. “I find her company enjoyable, yes.”

The sandy-haired boy rolled his eyes at his roommate’s inability to hear the underlying meaning behind his questions. “No, I mean do you like her?”

Sherlock groaned. “John, please, not this again!”

“Sherlock, what is the matter with getting a little psyched over Molly?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “You know why I can’t, John.”

John sighed and put an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. “Yes, I know mate. I just think you should at least try to move on. It’s been almost two years.”

“Yes, I know.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! As I was rereading this last night, it became apparent how drastically my writing has improved. Hopefully, these improvements are evident here, as I'm updating each chapter. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	3. Alone Protects Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John acts as an exposition vessel, and Molly learns some of Sherlock's heartbreaking past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only slightly edited from FFN, and I know it's really short, but it was my first work, and I want to keep as much of the original story as possible. I have some translations at the end. This chapter gets a tad angsty, but I hope you enjoy! I don't own Sherlock.

The next day, Molly started the day with Spanish. Luckily, she sat next to John. The two friends grinned at each other.

“Clase, siéntese. Hable con sus compañeros en español, por favor,” their professor said, obviously very enthusiastic in her career.

“So, Margarita,” John asked in English, ignoring their teacher’s request, though using Molly’s chosen Spanish name, “I hear Sherlock took you out.”

Molly blushed. “On a case,” she replied, also forgoing their teacher’s wishes. “I mean, I was flattered he considered me, and completely exhilarated to see a real crime scene, but it’s not like it was a date. I want to be a pathologist, and I don’t think visiting the site of a murder is exactly the best first date. It wasn’t a big deal!”

John put a hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Trust me. With Sherlock, it’s a big deal.”

“How so?”

John shifted uncomfortably. “He hates for me to tell anyone. He wouldn’t speak to me for three weeks after I told Mary.”

Molly leaned in closer, finding herself somewhat eager to learn more about her new friend. “What happened?”

John pursed his lips. “Alright, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself. He hates to seem vulnerable in anyway.”

She nodded. “I promise."

John cleared his throat. “It’ll be two years next Friday. He was head over heels for this girl, Irene Adler. They’d only been dating for about six months.”

“I think Mary mentioned her in passing. She said they’d only reached first base.”

John nodded. “Sherlock is actually quite the gentleman. He thought it was true love, or he’d never have entertained the thought of entering an actual relationship. His brother always told him that caring wasn’t an advantage, but he loved Irene so much, he ignored his brother’s instruction.”

Molly’s hand flew to her mouth. “She broke his heart didn’t she?”

“Quite badly too. She was...she was found murdered. It was only after investigating her death that it was discovered that she’d been cheating on Sherlock, and using him for God knows what. Sherlock swore off women, and really all human interaction after that.”

Molly bit her lip and nodded. “Poor Sherlock.” Of course, this phrase didn’t even begin to cover the empathy she felt toward the boy; she knew the exact sort of bitterness he must have been feeling because she, too, had once felt it. She now understood the icy wall Sherlock had put up between himself and the rest of the world.

John laid a hand on her arm. “He’s never taken to someone like he did you. He’s fond of you, I can tell you that, and he only tolerates the majority of people. Consider yourself honored. Whatever you do, don’t let him find out that you know.”

“¡Juan! ¡Margarita! ¡En español, por favor!”

* * *

Molly’s next class was English. Greg, Mary, John, and Sherlock were all in the class as well. The boys were seated at the very back of the classroom, the girls at the front.

Molly chewed at her nails, taking in what John had told her. The butterflies in her stomach were at war with the weight on her heart; while she admittedly pleased to have seemed to catch the boy’s eye, Molly knew the kind of pain he must’ve gone through, and the incapacitating vulnerability. Sherlock did not seem the type to have any weaknesses, and it made sense he’d want to keep this matter private. Molly felt guilty that she knew, and that she’d made John betray his friend’s trust.

“Hey.” Mary nudged her shoulder, noticing the conflicted look on the other girl’s face. “What’s the matter?”

Molly glanced over her shoulder in Sherlock’s direction. She turned and looked her friend straight in the eye. “John...he told me about her.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Just act like he didn’t tell you. I can’t deal with another round of silent Sherlock.”

Molly nodded, and cast one final, pitying glance at Sherlock.

* * *

It didn’t take a genius to deduce what Mary and Molly were whispering about. Sherlock glared at his best friend, and spat out through gritted teeth, “You told her, didn’t you?”

John stumbled over his words, unable to create a cognitive thought.

“Sherlock, please don’t give him the silent treatment again,” Greg pleaded.

“Stay out of this,” Sherlock snarled. Turning to John, he growled, “I thought I could trust you. Unfortunately, my brother is right once again. I’m better off alone. Alone is all I have. Alone protects me.”

“Sherlock, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

The raven-haired boy’s eyes flashed fire, searing poor John Watson to the core. His gaze didn’t leave the boy until he felt Molly’s sympathetic eyes on him. Growling incoherently, Sherlock stormed out of the room, leaving behind a suffocatingly tense silence.

* * *

Molly could not focus on the class. Her thoughts were on Sherlock. “ _I’m such an idiot. I should never have made John tell me. I can see why he doesn’t want people to know about Irene. It must bring back some painful memories. It’s the same reason I don’t like to talk about Jim. Oh_.” Suddenly, Molly realized what she needed to do.

* * *

When lunch came around, Molly cornered John.

“How is Sherlock?”

The sandy-haired boy snorted. “I’ve been texting him all through class. He won’t answer.”

Molly bit her lip. “Well, maybe I can get through to him.”

John sighed. “No offense, but if I can’t talk him round, I doubt you can.”

“Maybe, but I’d still like to try. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s probably under the willow by the athletic shed.”

Molly gave John a quick hug. “Thank you.”

“Good luck.”

* * *

Molly found Sherlock exactly where John said he’d be. She sat down next to him, though he didn’t appear to notice her.

She cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t be mad at John, you know. I made him tell me. I shouldn’t have, though. I’m sorry.”

Sherlock didn’t look at her, but he finally spoke. “And why would you want to know about my life?”  
“Because I’d consider you a friend at this point, and I tend to care about my friends. Actually, most people tend to care about their friends. Sentiment and all.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Sentiment. Ha. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Caring is not an advantage.”

It was Molly’s turn to scoff. “Did your brother tell you that? He’s wrong, you know.”

By now Sherlock had tuned her out, and Molly knew she would need to hit a nerve to get Sherlock to open up again. Fortunately, she’d already realized which button she could push. She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “If it helps, I know exactly how you feel.”

“This isn’t like losing a pet or a relative, Molly,” he replied, a condescending and annoyed tone in his voice.

Molly cleared her throat, which had become thick as a wave of emotion washed over her. “No, I mean my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, Jim, committed suicide. I never had a clue he was so distressed. I still don’t know what drove him to it.”

Sherlock, at long last, turned to face Molly with a pair of turmoiled eyes. A look of understanding passed between the two teens, and Sherlock realized that, in many ways, he’d found a kindred spirit. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for her. It never occurred to me that she was playing me.”

Molly nodded. “I thought Jim was my Prince Charming, come to take me home to be his princess.”

Sherlock bit his lip, stifling the tears threatening to come. He turned away from Molly. The tears welled in his eyes did not get past Molly’s notice.

“Sherlock,” she asked. “What is it?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then turned back to her. “Do you still love Jim?”

Molly nodded. “What choice do I have? Yes, he hurt me, but I refuse to hate him, and carry around all that bitterness. It’s the funny thing about hate; it really only has a bad effect on the person doing the hating. He was an important part of my life, and at one time, he was all I wanted. So, yes, I still love him, but I’m not in love with him. No matter how much it hurts, he still is a part of me. You must learn to forgive and forget, and move on. Love again.”

“How does that work?”

“It starts with listening to your heart. It’s your brain keeping you from letting go.” She playfully tapped the side of his head. “It thinks you still owe that person something when you don’t. Your heart could want something else.”

Sherlock smiled as the tears spilled over. “Thank you, Molly Hooper.” He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course.”

Sherlock sauntered off.

Molly grinned at his back, and then muttered to herself, “Eat your heart out, John.”

* * *

That night, Sherlock waited for John to return.

“John, I’m sorry,” he began, when his roommate walked in.

The sandy-haired boy shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I know how sensitive this topic is for you. I should’ve let you tell Molly on your own.”

The raven-haired boy held up a hand. “No, please. Let me apologize. You’re my best friend, and I know you always have my best interest in mind. Also, I have a better understanding of Molly, and I think, a new friend.”

John grinned. “Apology accepted. Still friends?” He offered up his hands.

Sherlock took John’s hand in his. “Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Clase, siéntese. Hable con sus compañeros en español, por favor - Class, sit down. Speak with your companions in Spanish, please.  
> ¡Juan! ¡Margarita! ¡En español, por favor! - John! Molly! In Spanish, please!  
> If you enjoyed this chapter, leave me a comment or a kudos.   
> You can find me on Tumblr at: thewriterinallofus.tumblr.com


	4. Freaks and Geeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock bond over a dead pig in a tin tray. Fluffiness (sort of) ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies. I did some major overhaul on this chapter from what is posted on FFN, and I hope it's good! As a warning, this chapter does talk about fetal pig dissection. To spare you lovelies, I haven't detailed what goes into a dissection. If you really want to know, I suppose you could ask me, and I'll tell you about the fetal pig, Delilah, I dissected in high school.   
> Enjoy, my loves!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

The next day, Molly woke up incredibly excited. Because her Anatomy class was a higher level than the regular Anatomy students, they were starting the year out with fetal pig dissection. The students would get to take pictures, and she would get to open up her first body.

She walked with a cheerful spring in her step the whole way to the classroom.

The professor greeted her cordially. “Well, hello, Molly. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Molly grinned. “Just a bit excited to start dissection. I’m interested in pathology, you know.”

This earned a smile from the instructor. “I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly.”

* * *

Sherlock scurried into class late, just as the professor was starting her lab safety lecture. The professor ignored Sherlock as he practically fell into his chair beside Molly.

Molly rolled her eyes at her raven-haired companion. “What, did you forget to set an alarm?”

“No, I got lost in my mind palace.”

“Your mind what?”

Sherlock was just about to explain his memory technique, when it became time to choose a pig.

“Class,” the professor called out, as the students returned to their seats, new charges in tow, “you may name your pig if you wish.”

Molly turned and gave a silly grin to her partner. “Whatever shall we name the little one, darling?”

Sherlock chuckled. He truly was delighted by the effervescence for such macabre subjects.  “I haven’t any ideas. It’s such a responsibility.”

Molly giggled. “If it’s a girl, I want to name it Marisol. She’s my nasty-smelling great-aunt who said I looked like a pig when I was born.”

Sherlock laughed even harder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I’m sure you were a beautiful infant. If it’s a boy, we should name it Mycroft.”

“Who’s Mycroft?”

“My overweight, overbearing, overshadowing older brother.”

Molly laughed at this, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Composing herself, she snapped on a pair of examination gloves. “Let’s get down to business.”

Sherlock helped her arrange the pig on the tray, and then looked to the worksheet. “Determine sex,” he read.

Molly began to examine the pig, her eyes squinting.

After two minutes, Sherlock became impatient. “You’re just identifying biological sex! How long does it take.”

“It’s a hermaphrodite.”

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘It’s a hermaphrodite.’ Look.”

The boy leaned down to inspect the area her purple latex covered finger indicated.

“I...I think you’re right.”

Both Sherlock and Molly’s jaws dropped, and then turned into happy grins. “So, now what do we name it,” Sherlock asked.

Molly pondered this, and replied, “Maricroft. A combination of Marisol and Mycroft.”

“Beautiful.”

After taking the necessary photographs for the presentation, Molly pulled out her phone and called over the professor. She handed the phone to her. “Could you take a picture of the two of us?”

The professor nodded. “Glad to see that you two are enjoying yourselves.”

Molly and Sherlock wrapped an arm around the other’s waist, and each lifted a corner of the pan holding Maricroft, tilting it toward the camera.

“Smile,” their professor commanded.

_Click!_

* * *

As they walked out of the classroom, Sherlock looked over at Molly’s phone.

“You too?”

“Hmm?”

He proffered his cellular device, and she smiled to see that they’d both chosen the picture of their little “family” as backgrounds.

“We are gonna gross out so many people,” Molly mentioned amusedly.

Sherlock smiled deviously. “Want to make a game of it? See how many people we can gross out?”

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

“What the…” Greg’s jaw dropped. “What is that?”

Molly snickered as she showed Greg her new background. “It’s me, Sherlock, and our hermaphroditic baby pig.”

Greg pushed his lunch away. “Eww. I think I lost my appetite.”

Sherlock and Molly shared a victorious glance.

Just then, Phillip and Sally sat down. “Hi, Greg we...ugh! What’s that?” Phillip and Sally both shivered in disgust as their eyes fell on Molly’s phone.

Greg moaned. “A fetal pig those two are dissecting.”

Sally grinned evilly. “So the freak finally found a freak to hang out with?”

At this, Molly snarled. “If by freak you mean someone who is different than you?”

“And, quite frankly, more intelligent,” Sherlock quipped.

Sally snorted. “You both are clearly enjoying dissecting that pig. You two get off on it, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sally, we get all hot and bothered by cutting up hermaphroditic fetal pigs with each other.” Molly rolled her eyes. “What world are you living in?”

Sherlock draped his arm over the back of Molly’s chair. “Molly, do you know what gets me off even more than dissecting pigs with you?”

“No. What?”

“The knowledge that our pig has a higher IQ than Sally and Anderson put together.”

Sally made a strangled noise as she stifled a sob, and bolted out the door, Philip following close behind.

“Sherlock, you should say you’re sorry. That wasn’t really a nice thing to say,” Molly chided.

“Neither was calling you a freak.”

Despite the fact that she thought he should apologize, it tickled her pink to know that he’d been standing up for her.

* * *

Throughout the day, Molly managed to gross out ten more people with her photo. The eleventh person she showed was Mary.

“Only you two could make something so morbid so adorable.”

Molly snickered. “It’s only adorable because Sherlock’s in it.”

Mary shoved her playfully. “He’s not the only cute one.”

“Aww, thanks, Mary.”

“I didn’t mean you! I meant baby Maricroft!”

“Oh, hush up!” Molly threw an eraser at her friend’s head.

“Oh, hey!” Mary exclaimed, ignoring the projectile that had just been lobbed at her. “Did Sherlock tell you that he and John made up?”

Molly grinned. “No. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Do you know what else John told me,” Mary quipped.

Molly rolled her eyes affectionately. “No. What else did John tell you?”

“Sherlock Holmes referred to you as a friend,” the blonde exclaimed gleefully.

“Ooh, big stuff,” Molly replied sarcastically, her hands lethargically going to her face in mock surprise. “Why is that such a big deal?”

Mary laid her hands on Molly’s shoulders. “Sherlock Holmes has always said that he has many acquaintances, some of whom he could even say he was fond of, but that he only has one friend.”

“John.”

Mary nodded. “Now he has two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy it? If so, leave me a comment or a kudos. I love hearing your feedback! Also, I know some people are really uncomfortable with things like dissection, and don't want to see the pictures. When my partner in high school and I did the final presentation, our friends avoided us so they didn't have to see the pictures. The whole "let's gross them out with this pic" idea came from the fact that the first day, my partner and I took a picture of just us, in goggles and exam gloves, and that grossed enough people out. She suggested I throw it into the fic, and I added the pig to the picture because I thought it made more sense. Also, Sherlock is the kind of person who probably wouldn't care if it grossed people out.  
> You can find me on Tumblr at: thewriterinallofus.tumblr.com


	5. That's Why His Belstaff's So Big; It's Full of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempestas-ex-machina. Mother Nature acts as a catalyst to further...something. Whether it's the plot or the fluff, I'll let you decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly fluff, with, like, one drop of angst. TW: death mentions, bad weather.  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter, mes amis!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Mean Girls.

It was a good thing that Sherlock now had two friends on Friday. That Friday.

The second anniversary of Irene’s death. The day that was supposed to be one of the worst in Sherlock’s life. The day that actually turned out to be one of the best. All thanks to Molly Hooper.

* * *

The day had started off pretty badly. The power at the Academy was out for at least a day thanks to a hellish thunderstorm, and back-up generators that hadn’t worked since the ‘80’s. All classes were cancelled. John, taking advantage of this new-found free time, had gone on an impromptu date with Mary. According to his girlfriend, they’d be out all day.

“So you’re just going to leave me here with nothing to do?”

Mary snickered. “I’d suggest you do some homework, Molly, but I know you finished it all last night.”

Molly scowled. “I’ll be alone all day!”

“You’ve got Sherlock.”

“Yeah, I’ve got mope-a-saurus rex. Did you forget what day it is?”

Mary shrugged. “No.” She checked the clock. “Well, I’m off. See ya!”

“Mary!” Molly sighed. She’d just have to entertain herself. Her eyes fell on the stacks of movies her roommate had brought along.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

* * *

“Sherlock, please tell me you’re not going to spend the whole day in bed.”

“So what if I am?” His voice was muffled by the pillow he was clinging to.

John sighed. “Look, mate, I feel for you. I really do, but...it’s been two years. You’ve got to move on.”

The raven haired boy growled. “I don’t have to do anything.”

His roommate sighed in exasperation. “Fine. Do what you want. I’ll see you later.”

Sherlock rolled over, sniping at the place where John had stood.

Just then, a beam of light shone in the room. Sherlock sat up, squinting in the direction of the beam. “Who’s there?”

The light source moved to shine under the chin of Molly Hooper. “Muahahaha! Hey, Sherlock!”

Sherlock groaned. What did he have to do to get some privacy. “What do you want, Molly?”

Instead of answering, she placed an electric lantern in the middle of the floor, illuminating the entire room. She was revealed to have several grocery bags with her.

Sherlock eyed the bags suspiciously. “What’s in the sacks?”

Molly hummed. “An array of sappy, feel-good movies, a portable DVD player, portable generator, two energy drinks, a jumbo box of caramel Cadbury eggs, two packs of chocolate biscuits, and two bags of popcorn.”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. “Why did you bring all of this? Planning on moving in?”

“Because it’s a dreary day and we are both without our roommates.”

Sherlock scowled. “Didn’t Mary tell you what day it is?”

Molly nodded. “And I’m here to cheer you up! Get up!”

“Has it occurred to you I don’t want cheering up?” He was slightly startled by the mattress bending under someone’s weight.

“It has. Too bad I don’t care.” When Sherlock tried to answer, Molly shoved a biscuit in his mouth. “Out of bed!”

* * *

“ _Mean Girls_? Seriously, Molly? What makes you think I’ll enjoy this?”

She giggled and tapped the side of her head, quoting Karen Smith. “I have a fifth sense. It’s like I have ESPN or something! My breasts can sense when you’re going to enjoy a movie.”

Sherlock’s cheeks flushed red at the sight of Molly cupping her own breasts. “What?”

Molly shoved a handful of popcorn into Sherlock’s open mouth.  “Hush. Just watch.”

* * *

“What did you think, Sherlock? Do you feel better?”

Affecting a woman’s high pitched squeal, he replied, “That’s so fetch!”

Molly giggled. “Told you!”

Sherlock grinned. “Thank you for cheering me up Molly. Never again will I question the psychic ability of your breasts.” He did mean it; while the loss of Irene still stung, he was touched by Molly’s thoughtfulness and generosity.

Just then, the wind picked up, a bright white light flashed, and a clap of thunder reverberated through the room. Molly gasped and grabbed Sherlock’s arm.

He grinned sympathetically and gently patted her hair. “Storm shy, are we?”

Molly nodded meekly. “I’ve never been able to handle them.”

“Would a hug help?”

“Yes. If you don’t mind.”

Sherlock pulled the girl into his lap, where she promptly buried her face in his shoulder. Another flash of lightning filled the room with blinding light, and was promptly followed by a clap of thunder. Molly whimpered, and Sherlock held her tighter. “Shh. Molly. It’ll be alright.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.  

* * *

When Mary and John returned, they were pleasantly surprised to find Molly and Sherlock asleep on his bed. The dark-haired boy was propped into the corner, a pillow behind his head. His arm was wrapped around the petite girl’s waist, and she was curled into his side.

“Aww, John! They’re so cute!”

John nodded assent. “I underestimated Molly. Perhaps she’s managed to crack his stony heart.”

Mary giggled. “I always knew he was a giant softie.”

“Should we wake them?”

John sighed. “I suppose so. You know that Headmaster Magnussen will have all of our hides if he finds out about this.”

* * *

Molly, oddly enough, woke up in her own bed. She sat up and looked over to Mary. “How did I get here?”

Mary rolled over. “John carried you here from Sherlock’s bed.”

Molly swallowed, and felt her cheeks flush, imagining that Mary must have thought worst. “We didn’t...Sherlock and I...I mean…”

Mary grinned, and gave a sympathetic look to Molly.  “I know. It’s okay. Why are you so upset?”

Molly shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know. Because I’m a prude, I guess. I suppose you want to know everything, so, here goes.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I went over with junk food and chick flicks to cheer him up, and we watched Mean Girls and the thunder started again, so Sherlock held me and kissed me and told me it would be okay. I guess we fell asleep.”

Molly exhaled sharply and looked up to see Mary’s wide eyes and mouth in a perfect “O.”

“What,” Molly exclaimed.

Mary’s face broke into an enormous grin.

“What,” Molly repeated.

“Sherlock Holmes kissed you!”

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. “On the forehead.”

“And you didn’t kiss him back?”

“No, why would I…”

“Oh. My. God. Molly Hooper, you are so saintly!”

She cocked an eyebrow. “How am I saintly?”

Mary grinned devilishly. “Had it been me, I would’ve taken the opportunity to snog him senseless.”

Molly developed her own devilish grin. “You would’ve taken an opportunity to kiss Sherlock?”

Mary scowled. “You know what I meant. I would’ve made out with John.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Well, forgive me for waiting to snog Sherlock until a day when it isn’t the second anniversary of his first love’s death!”

Mary sighed and flopped down on the bed. “Molly,” she whined. “I need some good gossip!”

“I got Sherlock to say _Mean Girls_ was fetch?”

“Juicier!”

Molly wracked her brain. Suddenly, something Mary had said clicked in her brain.  “Well, I know we were on the floor to watch the movie, and that’s where I fell asleep. Sherlock must have moved us to the bed.”

Mary gasped gleefully. “That’s more like it! Now, tell me, what does he smell like?”

“What?”

“Scent, odor, aroma!”

Molly’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a strange question.”

“Everyone knows how their significant other smells.”

“Through his nose,” Molly stated sarcastically.

Mary glared. “What does he smell like?”

Molly sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the aroma that she knew was uniquely Sherlock. “Well, he kind of smells like the old books he reads, fresh laundry, and, oddly enough, tobacco.”

Mary bit her lip. “Not so oddly. He smokes. Not as much anymore, because John hides all his cigarettes.”

Molly chuckled. “Ah, well. If he wants his lungs to be black, then so be it.”

Mary smiled. “You must really love him if you’re okay with his smoking.”

A wry smile appeared on Molly’s face. “Yes, I suppose I’m rather fond of him.” The girls broke into uncontrollable giggles.

* * *

“John, could you please stop staring at me like that?” Sherlock was very perturbed by the wondering eyes and barely concealed grin on his roommate’s face.

“You, Sherlock bloody Holmes, fell asleep with Molly Hooper in your arms.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware of that.”

“How long have you known her? Two weeks. You didn’t even move so quickly with Irene.”

Cringing at Irene’s name, Sherlock spat, “You make it sound like I already shagged Molly or something.”

“Already,” John asked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“What do you mean, ‘already’?”

“You make it sound like you have plans to shag Molly.”

Sherlock’s cheeks flared. “And you are twisting my words. I said no such thing.”

John chuckled. “Your words say no, but your red face says yes. There’s no shame in it. Last Christmas, Mary and I...”

“I know very well about your and Mary’s escapades. Hell, Phillip Anderson could’ve deduced that! And my face says no such thing.”

“Liar.” There was a pregnant pause, and no words passed between the two. Finally, John asked impishly, “Do you at least plan to snog her senseless?”

Sherlock groaned, and chucked a pillow at the other boy’s head. “Goodnight, John.”

John snickered. “Night, Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too sappy? Probably. I hope you enjoyed movie day with Sherlock and Molly. If you did, leave a comment or a kudos. I always appreciate the feedback. Ciao, my loves. If you want to hit me up on Tumblr, its: thewriterinallofus.tumblr.com


	6. Can I Say Something Crazy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is...intrigued by Molly. He's not really sure what he's feeling, or why, but he knows that he wants to do something for her. Can our favorite consulting detective in the making woo his lady love? Or will other things get in the way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More shameless fluff. And angst. Definitely some angst, but don't worry! It'll all be okay! I promise! Also I'm apologizing in advance for the references to "Frozen." When I wrote this, it was still "the big thing" and my friends were OBSESSED. It was literally inescapable. Ugh. I could change it to a more recent film, but I'm lazy, and like my copy and paste button.   
> Anyway...  
> TW: mentions of heights, menstruation, potential pregnancy.  
> I don't own anything but the plot, my dear readers.

Sherlock had been tossing and turning all night. John had been at least partially right. When Molly had crawled into his lap, needing comfort, it had taken a lot of effort on his part to only kiss her forehead, and not tilt her chin up and kiss her delicate mouth. Molly had a dizzying effect on Sherlock. There was something about her that made logic go out the window, and his whole body feel warm.

It was these strange feelings telling Sherlock that he should do something sweet for Molly, since she’d been so kind to him. It was these strange feelings that made him rise at five-thirty in the morning, and creep over to Room 257.

* * *

 

He deftly picked the lock and tiptoed to Molly’s bed.

“Molly. Molly. Wake up.” He gently shook her shoulder.

The girl rolled over, mumbling something about hating mornings.

“C’mon, Molly!”

Sherlock finally roused her enough that she opened her eyes. Immediately, she went into panic mode. “Sherlock? What is it? What’s the matter?”

He nonchalantly handed her her Converse. “C’mon! I want to show you something!”

Molly rubbed her eyes, beginning to think the boy in front of her was insane. Despite these thoughts, she pulled her shoes on. “This couldn’t have waited till morning?”

He took her hand, leading her out the door. “Technically, it is morning.”

* * *

The cool morning air made Molly shiver, as she stepped out onto the roof of Appledore Academy. Sherlock pulled her to the edge, where he carefully sat down, his long legs dangling. Molly followed suit.

She blinked at him through bleary eyes. “Sherlock, what…” He pressed a finger to her lips, turning her gaze to the horizon. She gasped. The sunrise had painted the sky pink, purple, and gold. “Oh, Sherlock!”

The raven-haired boy grinned, pleased at the positive reaction he’d drew out of her.

He gingerly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she tentatively laid her head on his shoulder.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut it with a knife. Both teens felt slightly out of their element, but in a good way. Both could tell that something amazing was coming.

When the vibrant hues began to fade, Molly turned to Sherlock and asked why he had taken her here.

“Why not? Am I not allowed to want to take a pretty girl out to see the sunrise?”

Molly blushed, and glanced up at him from underneath her eyelashes. She noticed that his pupils, which were focused on her lips, were blown out so that only a thin ring of blue-green surrounded them.

Sherlock looked from Molly’s mouth to her eyes and back again. An almost imperceptible smile found its way onto Molly’s face, and it was all the permission Sherlock needed.

* * *

 

Molly supposed that every girl dreamed of how her first kiss would go. When she was small, she dreamed that her Prince Charming would swoop in and save her from some terrible beast, and they would share a kiss, riding off into the sunset on his valiant steed.

As she grew older, the dream transformed.

She still imagined a princely person delivering the kiss, though she imagined herself in gowns fit for the red carpet. Her dreams became less like the Disney films of her childhood, and more like the romantic comedies into which she’d grown.

The current situation really didn’t resemble her either of her musings in the slightest.

Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t think straight. She knew her face had turned bright red, from the almost unbearable heat emanating from it. She felt her heartbeat spike and she began to tremble in anticipation as Sherlock leaned towards her.

She held her breath, and just as she felt Sherlock’s lips graze hers, her cell phone rang.

The moment was shattered, and Sherlock groaned, rolling back onto his haunches.

Molly threw him an apologetic look, and answered. “Hello? Mary, I’m fine! Y...Yes! I’ll be right down! Breathe!” She hung up. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I’ve got to go! Thank you!” She pecked him on the cheek and took off running.

* * *

Molly burst into her dorm. “Mary! What is the matter?”

Mary stifled her tears as she took in Molly’s appearance. “Get dressed first. Get comfortable. Then sit down.”

Molly knew better than to argue with a hysterical Mary, and did as she was told, pulling on a pair of jeans and a jumper. She then sat down, and repeated her initial question. “What is the matter?”

Mary sobbed. “I’m late! I’m two weeks late! I’ve only just realized!”

If Molly’s hadn’t immediately understood her friend’s predicament due to suffering through the same monthly visit, the sudden barrage of sanitary napkins flying through the air was a dead giveaway.

“It’s okay! It’s probably just a fluke! Everybody’s late once in awhile.”

Mary shook her head. “I’ve never been this late in my life! And...I’ve been having strange cravings, and throwing up, and...”

Molly bit her lip. Mary was beyond seeing things logically. Perhaps a scientific approach might work?

“Look, more than likely it’s stress. Tell you what, maybe I could take a sample to the lab for testing. Sherlock could…”

“No! If he knows, he will certainly tell John, and I can’t tell John!”

“Why not? He’s the father isn’t he? Shouldn’t he know?”

“How do I tell John that I’ve ruined his life? He’ll never be a doctor because I couldn’t keep my legs together.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “As I recall, it takes two to tango. You can’t lay all the blame on yourself. Besides, who says that his dream of becoming a doctor is ruined? Your parents could help you.”

Mary snorted. “That’s not happening. My parents will disown me when they find out, and I know that John would drop out of college to get a job, and help support us.”

“John’s parents?”

“I don’t know.”

Just then, a knock came at the door. “Mary, it’s John. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

She cleared her throat. “No...nothing. I’m fine.”

Molly elbowed her. “Tell him. It’s not you know for sure!”

“I’m not telling him anything,” Mary spat.

“Not telling me what? Sherlock, door, now.”

Molly tensed as she heard Sherlock picking the lock on the door. Moments later, the boys burst in through the door.

Sherlock’s jaw dropped as he immediately deduced the cause of Mary’s tears, though anyone could’ve at that point, what with all the napkins on the floor. Seeing that Sherlock was only going to make the matter worse, Molly grabbed her bag and coat, rushed over, and pulled him out of the room. “Call me if you need me, Mary.”

* * *

Sherlock stormed down the hallway, muttering under his breath. Molly distinctly made out “bloody,” “stupid,” and “idiot.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “Who’s a bloody stupid idiot?”

“John,” he spat out through a clenched jaw. “What was he thinking?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘Mary’s really sexy.’” Molly laughed not only at her own joke, but the reality that Sherlock had reached levels of hysteria on par with Mary.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Now is not the time for jokes, Molly. They’re not really your forte, anyway.”

Molly scowled. “Why are you so mad anyway? It’s not like John potentially knocked you up. What, do you have something against the whole premarital thing?”

Sherlock let out a sound akin to a growl. “You don’t understand. He’s my best friend. I’m always going to look out for him.”

Molly grabbed his hand. “And he’ll always look out for you, but what John needs now is your support, not your anger. He doesn’t need a lecture, he needs someone to lean on.” She paused. “As does Mary. Now calm down before you convince yourself that you’re pregnant.”

Sherlock smiled, realizing that he needed to relax. “How do you know so much?”

She squeezed his hand. “I observe,” Molly replied, mimicking his voice.

His grin widened. “C’mon. Let’s go do something. Get our minds off of it.”

She nodded. “I’d like that. Hold on. I’ll text Mary”

“ _Mary, are you alright? Sherlock wants me to hang out with him - MHx_ ”

“ _I’m fine. Go have fun. We’ll talk tonight. - MMx_ ”

Molly looked up from her phone. “Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go.”

* * *

Molly and Sherlock climbed onto the shiny black motorbike and headed to the cinema. They were going to see a special showing of “Frozen.”

“God, I love Disney films. I can’t believe this came out almost a year ago.” Molly squealed as they walked into the theatre. “My little sister dragged me to see this twice. Of course,” she added, “they say third time the charm, so I’m glad you’re the one taking me.”

Sherlock grinned. “John also dragged me twice. I think he has a crush on Sven.”

Molly giggled, and sang, “Reindeers are better than people. Sven, don’t you think that’s true?”

Holding his hands to his head like antlers, Sherlock answered, “Yes, people will beat you, and curse you, and cheat you. Every one of ‘em’s bad, except you.” For emphasis, he poked Molly’s arm.

Molly giggled, and ruffled his raven curls. “Aww, thanks buddy.”

The tattooed cashier cleared her throat. “Are you two done?”

The two teenagers blushed and scurried into the theatre. The aisles sloped down to the seats, and on either side of the theatre, there were balconies of sorts, and on the balconies there were leather couches. Sherlock dragged her to one of the couches.

“Don’t you have to reserve these?”

Sherlock grinned. “While you were arranging things with Mary, I was making some of arrangements of my own.”

Molly raised an eyebrow; part of her now wondered if Sherlock’s earlier rage was due to Mary’s interruption of the moment. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you! That’s so sweet!”

“Anything for you, Molly Hooper!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. A lot of fluff. If my description of the theatre confuses you, go to www.campustheater.org. It's a beautiful theatre, that does have couches to reserve and does do special showings. Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, let me know by leaving a kudos or a comment. Thank you to those who have done so already!   
> You can find me on Tumblr at: thewriterinallofus.tumblr.com


	7. Take My Heart, But Please Don't Break It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after "Happily Ever After?" Unfortunately for Molly, she's never really thought about it, and it's going to cause her some anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again, my lovelies! This chapter, once again, has a bit of angst. Of course, I promised fluff, and threw in the angst only as a measure to prevent straying into cheesiness. I hope you are enjoying this story!   
> I don't own anything but the plot, and am making no moolah.

By the time Kristoff was introduced, Molly was curled into Sherlock’s side. She reached her right hand, which was pressed into Sherlock’s side, up to twine her fingers with his left where it rested on her waist. She whispered in Sherlock’s ear, “You know, Mary and I were thinking about dressing up as Anna and Elsa for next Halloween. You and John want to join us?”

Sherlock grinned. “Only if I get to be Sven.”

Molly smiled. “I’d love to see you in reindeer antlers.”

Sherlock chuckled. “So would John, I think.”

* * *

When the picture ended, Sherlock hugged Molly tight. “Thank you, Molly, for coming with me.”

“Anytime, Sherlock. I had a lot of fun.” She meant it.

They climbed on the motorbike and returned to the Academy.

* * *

Molly approached her dorm room, reluctant to leave Sherlock’s side. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Like you said, I need to be there for John, and Mary needs you.”

Molly nodded, pleased that she’d gotten through to him. “Alright. See you Monday, love.”

Sherlock smiled, and leaned down, pressing a kiss just shy of of her mouth. “Monday.”

Molly stood frozen, a dazed half-smile plastered to her face, watching as Sherlock sauntered off, an apparent bounce in his step.

* * *

The next day, Molly waited patiently for Mary to wake up. She sat on the girl’s bed gently, petting her blonde hair, as Mary came to full consciousness.

Mary’s face was immediately full of shame. “Molly, I’m sure you must think the worst of me.”

“No. You’re still my best friend, and I’ll always support you.”

Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Molly.”

The brown-eyed girl smiled, and pulled her friend to a sitting position, giving her a bear hug.

“How did John take it,” Molly asked, concern clouding her voice.

Mary grinned a bit. “Fairly well, actually. His thinks his parents might be willing to help, since he’s sort of the favorite. His sister, Harry, has a big drinking problem. And he’s not cross with me. He says we’ll play it by ear, because he loves me more than anything, and would never let anything come between us.”

Molly grinned, having foreseen this outcome. “That’s wonderful, love. I’m glad to hear everything worked out. Sherlock and I were so very worried.”

The usual mischievous glint returned to Mary’s eyes. “So, uh, what did you and Sherlock get up to?”

Molly blushed. “Well, before you called me, he got me up to watch the sunrise and very nearly kissed me. For real. And then we went to see ‘Frozen,’ and we snuggled on a couch.”

“He did give you a goodnight kiss, right?”

“Sort of. He kissed me here,” Molly replied, pointing to the area just past her mouth.

Mary squealed and clapped her hands excitedly, her own dilemma forgotten for the time being. “Oh my goodness! You’re, like, his girlfriend now!”

“No. No,” Molly protested. “I mean, we never made it official or anything.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. “Sherlock Holmes almost gave you your first kiss twice today. You are his girlfriend.”

Molly blushed. “I guess so.” She paused as the implications of that dawned on her. “Oh my God! Sherlock Holmes is my boyfriend.”

Mary laughed. “Just as long as you and I are the only ones who say so. Unless Sherlock says otherwise, never refer to him as your boyfriend. He really hates it when the whole P.E. class demands to know if he’s shagged his girlfriend yet, wanting sordid details.”

Molly chuckled. “Sherlock talking dirty.” She couldn’t even picture the scenario in her mind.

“Yeah, try talking nerdy.”

Molly assumed a dramatic pose, and mimicked Sherlock’s voice. “Oh, the way you hold that chemistry book sends my testosterone levels sky high.” She paused. “Actually, I probably would find it very sexy if he said that to me.”

Mary scoffed affectionately. “You, Molly Hooper, are the only person I know who would prefer talking nerdy to dirty.”

* * *

“John, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

“I forgive you, of course. You’re my best mate. I know you’re just looking out for me.”

Sherlock stuck his hand out. “Friends?”

John forgoed the handshakes and pulled his best friend into a hug. “Friends.”

“Is Mary alright?”

John nodded. “I’m not upset, either. You roll with the punches of life. I’m hoping my parents will be willing to help us.”

Sherlock grinned. “Of course they will. Molly and I will, too.”

“So,” John continued, “you and Molly.”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. “Me and Molly what?”

John sighed. “You and Molly! You went on a date!”

“Yes. What’s your point?”

“Well, is it official? Is she your girl? Untouchable?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Well, I didn’t ask her, so I suppose it’s not actually official.”

John groaned, and then grinned. “Did you kiss her yet?”

Sherlock moaned. “I wish. Your girlfriend’s untimely call interrupted us. And I was too nervous last night.”

“It’ll happen. Just go with it.”

* * *

Molly had never been so nervous in her life. For whatever reason, she felt like she couldn’t be around Sherlock. Some of the magic had worn off, and now Molly realized she was in a relationship, and she couldn’t chase away images of Jim. She realized that it was possible that her heart could be broken again.

“I wonder if this is what princesses deal with after they ride off into the sunset,” she mused.

It was taking all of Molly’s effort to walk into Anatomy.

“You can do this, Molly. You can do this. It’s just Sherlock.” She paused. “I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what,” she heard a familiar baritone ask.

“Uhh.” She whirled around to face Sherlock. “Nothing. Nevermind. Hi.”

“Hello. What are we doing in class today?”

“Umm, we have a substitute, so we can’t go any further in the lab. I suppose we’ll have a study hall.”

He nodded. “Are you alright, Molly? You seem...jumpy.”

Apparently, her attempts at nonchalance were failing. “What? No! I’m peachy! Never been better! Um, yeah!”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Okay.”

“I’m...I’m just going to, uh, study. Yeah, study.” Molly hurried to a separate desk, rushing to spread her material across the table, immediately indicating that she wanted to sit alone.

Sherlock worried his lip, and took a seat from which he could observe her.

“ _Tense muscles, obviously nervous about something. Possibly concerned about her grades, which would explain the studying, but she is finishing the exercises easily and quickly. However, she keeps getting distracted, and looking up at me, blushing, and gets back to work. Ergo, I am somehow upsetting her_.”

He stood and crossed the room, sitting next to her. “Molly, don’t lie. Something is bothering you. Tell me. Please.”

She sighed. Sherlock was nothing if not persistent. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid really.” She tried to appease him with a wide grin.

Sherlock wasn’t fooled. “Molly, I know it’s me making you nervous. Tell me what I’ve done.”

Molly dragged her hands down her face. No sense lying. “You didn’t. It’s me. This...us...it’s been awhile since Jim. I’m just...hesitant. What if it doesn’t work? What if I screw something up? What if I break your heart? What if...what if you break mine?” Her voice dropped as she spoke her true fears aloud.

Sherlock wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulders. “Breathe. Why are you worrying?”

Tears formed in Molly’s eyes, and she wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s neck. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

She pulled away and a smile appeared on her face. “Me too.”

Sherlock winked at her, then picked up a Sharpie and her planner.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” Instead of answering, Sherlock threw her a mischievous grin, and began to scribble in her planner.

Molly rolled her eyes, and returned to her studies, glancing up occasionally to grin at Sherlock.

When the bell rang, Sherlock thrust the planner into Molly’s hand. “Check that out later. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Molly grinned, and took his hand. “Come on, you. Professor Hudson gave me chocolate chip scones, and I have two peanut butter and jam sandwiches.”

Sherlock eagerly followed. “Ooh. What kind of jam?”

Molly laughed. “I thought John was the one with jam fetish. If you must know, it’s my own recipe. Blackberries, honey, and a bit of lemon juice.” She laughed even harder to see Sherlock practically drooling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this silly little fic! If you are, leave a comment or a kudos! Thanks for reading!


	8. A Wrench in the Cogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly learns to utilize the deductive skills she's learned from Sherlock. Will they come in handy when she faces off with a newcomer to the school?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this was kind of a throwaway chapter when I initially wrote it, and upon revising it, I realized there was no saving it. It's short, involves the dissection of Sally Donovan, and the introduction of *shudders* a new student.   
> I hope you enjoy it, even if it is kind of sucky.   
> I don't own anything but the plot.

Molly and Sherlock took their usual seat at the lunch table across from Greg.

“You don’t have any more morbid selfies,” the silver-haired boy asked warily, through a bite of meat pasty.

Molly chuckled. “No. We had a substitute teacher, so we didn’t get to spend time with Maricroft.”

Greg eyed the proximity of the two, and grinned. “So, uh, John told me you two went out on Saturday.”

Just then, Sally and Phillip sat down. “You mean the freak duo are a thing now? Like, Sherlock Holmes has a living, breathing girlfriend?”

Sherlock scowled, Sally’s deliberate attack on Irene hitting a nerve. “What’s it to you?”

Ignoring his comment, Sally directed her line of questioning at Molly. “Does he even know how to...umm…” Sally cleared her throat suggestively.

Now, if one spends enough time with Sherlock Holmes, one begins to pick up some of his nearly flawless deductive skills, and occasionally, some of his more Aspergerish (or sociopathic, as he’d say) tendencies, and Molly Hooper was no exception. However, Molly had the distinct advantage of being generally more sociable, and more understanding of society’s emotions. Because of this combination, Molly Hooper realized something about Sally Donovan that she never had before now.

Molly now knew how to end this. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Sherlock, should I spare her the details, or let her have it?”

Sherlock had already deduced what Molly had just figured out, and he grinned devilishly. “Let her have it.”

Molly cleared her throat. “People complain about the amount of PDA that happens between you and Phillip. However, when you are around other boys, this PDA ceases. What this shows is that you aren’t completely happy with Phillip, and are constantly on the lookout for a new man, but refuse to be single in the interim. The fact that this behavior is undeterred by the relationship status of the onlooking men shows that you have no qualms about breaking up someone else’s relationship. Your verbal attacks on Sherlock show that he’s pointed this out before now, and your interest in his...shall we say...skill set, show that he’s rejected you, but you still wonder what it’d be like to have him. Doesn’t it just rile you up that you’ll never know how any of your boyfriends will measure up?”

Tears welled in Sally’s eyes. “Y-you’re a freak. Just like him. You’re made for each other. I hope you enjoy your time together.” She ran off.

Phillip sent them a poor excuse for a glare. “It was bad enough with one freak.”

“If you have any plans of continuing with Sally, I suggest you go salvage your relationship at once,” Sherlock advised. Phillip rolled his eyes, and took his leave.

Greg was stuck with a half-grin plastered to his face. “Molly Hooper, you are my new favorite person.”

She blushed and leaned into Sherlock. He pulled her flush against his side, and kissed her temple, whispering, “That’s my girl.”

* * *

Later that day, during Molly’s art class, another girl, Meena, approached her. “Your the new girl, Molly Hooper, right? The one who finally told off Sally Donovan. Sherlock Holmes’ girlfriend?”

Gnawing doubt over the status of her relationship with Sherlock resurfaced, so she squeaked, “Yes, I’m Molly Hooper.”

“Meena Doyle. Nice to meet you. ‘Course, you’re the talk of the Academy.”

Molly’s brow furrowed worriedly. What had she done to get the whole school talking? “Really? Why?”

“Well, you finally called Sally out on being a man-stealing wench, and you’ve somehow managed to thaw Sherlock’s frozen heart,” Meena replied almost reverently.

Molly was confused. “And this somehow makes me a hero or something?”

Meena nodded enthusiastically. “Sally Donovan’s had a go at pretty much every male in this school at least once. And Sherlock. Molly, if you’d known him before Irene. Sweetest guy alive.”

Molly blushed. “I think he’s pretty sweet. I mean, he’s nice to me. Doesn’t deduce the life out of me daily.”

Meena grinned. “You, he likes. He always did it to everyone, but kind of more as a parlor trick. Once made a thousand pounds at a school fundraiser pretending to be a psychic. He only became so cold and harsh after Irene. You’ve brought back a little of the old Lock.”

“Lock,” Molly exclaimed incredulously.

Meena giggled and blushed. “Everyone gets a nickname from me. I originally called him Sherly, but he insisted his name was ‘Sherlock.’” Meena did an impeccable impression of Sherlock’s voice. “Finally, he cracked. He told me that if I could come up with a nickname that he deemed tolerable, he’d let me use it.”

Molly giggled. “Lock. I like it.”

“Thanks. ‘Course, I haven’t called him that since he went all frozen on us.”

Molly nodded. “You should start again.”

* * *

That night, Sherlock and Molly walked out in the garden. The girl was unnaturally quiet, and it worried her companion.

“Molly, tell me what’s on your mind.”

She sighed. “I’m assuming you know Meena Doyle?”

Sherlock nodded. “She’s going to be a fashion designer, right?”

“Yes. She, well, she mentioned you. Well, she specifically mentioned...never mind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Molly bit her lip, and stopped. “Everyone keeps saying I’m your girlfriend, and I suppose...I just want to know...well, where you, I mean, we stand?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock’s mouth. He pulled her into his arms, her head pressed against his chest. “Molly, personally I hate the terms, and find them juvenile. I told you, I’m in this for the long haul. I suppose according to societal norms, you are my girlfriend. At least, you are if you’d like to be. I-I’d like you to be.” His cheeks flushed, and he cast his eyes downward.

Molly looked up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Deduce my answer.”

He grinned and kissed her forehead. “I thought you might say that.”

* * *

Molly skipped in her dorm room, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Mary looked up from her book.  “Why’re you so cheery?”

“Sherlock said I was his girlfriend.”

Mary rolled her eyes in jest. “Oh, that’s all?”

Molly squealed, her hands flailing. Mary grinned, and got to her feet, hugging Molly to her chest. “I’m so happy for you, Molls.”

* * *

The next day, Molly could barely contain herself in Spanish. John, though he didn’t possess Sherlock’s deductive skills, knew that her glee likely stemmed from the dark-haired boy with whom he shared a room. “Hey, Margarita! How’s it hanging?”

She giggled. “It be banging, Juan!”

John picked up on an unintentional double entendre in her words. “What’s banging? Or rather, who?”

Molly punched his arm. “Ew, John! That not what I meant and you know it!”

John grinned and waggled his eyebrows like a Vaudeville actor. “Oh, come on, Molly. I’m just ragging on you.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You’re upset because Sherlock won’t tell you anything, aren’t you?”

John scowled. “His sociopathic tendencies and deductive reasonings are rubbing off.”

Molly smirked. “Didn’t Sally tell you? I’m a freak, too!”

* * *

That day in English, a new girl entered class. Her name was Janine, and she was Headmaster Magnussen’s precious niece. The professor sat her in the empty seat by Molly and Mary.

“Want to sit with us at lunch,” Mary asked cordially.

Janine nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

The new girl threw a flirtatious look over her shoulder. Something about it put Molly on edge.

* * *

A lunch, Sherlock was flanked by the two newest additions to Appledore Academy’s student body: Molly Hooper and Janine Williams.

Sherlock had never been so uncomfortable. Janine was flirting with him incessantly, always trying to attain physical contact. Normally, Sherlock would’ve just told her off, but since she was the Headmaster’s niece, she was practically untouchable.

“Sherl, what do you think of my hair?”

“I don’t, and don’t call me Sherl.” He sent a pleading look in the direction of everyone else at the table, one that clearly screamed for help.

Molly didn’t know what to do. She wanted to assist Sherlock, but she knew insulting Janine was a no-go. Instead, Molly reached out and took Sherlock’s hand, helpless to do anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy it? If you did, I probably won't believe you, but feel free to leave a comment or a kudos regardless.  
> Just an FYI, I'm not condoning the psychological mind-screw that Sherlock (or in this case) Molly puts people through. I also don't mean to offend anyone with Asperger's Syndrome. I actually have it myself, and am convinced that Sherlock suffers from it as well, and is not a "high-functioning sociopath."


	9. If It Hadn't Been for You Meddling Kids!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future of Molly and Sherlock's relationship rests in the gang's ability to prove Janine for what she is. Will they expose her, or will Molly lose her anti-Prince Charming?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laughably, I thought this was a long chapter when I first started writing. Despite that, I hope you like what I've done with this chapter, in which shenanigans with Janine ensue. It may seem as though it's going to become angsty, but I'm crap at writing angst, so it becomes fluffy rather quickly. I apologize if it makes the story move to quickly. This was a hard chapter to write, and I've had no real experience with angst.   
> As always, I only own my plot, and I'm not even getting paid for that.

Within a week of Janine’s arrival at the school, it was apparent that Sally Donovan no longer held the title of biggest maneater. Sally had never stooped so low as to flirt with boys in front of their significant others, nor did she pursue a man who was clearly not interested.

Apparently, Janine had no such issues.

* * *

“Not even I am that bad,” Sally complained. “And I realize I was pretty bad. I mean, I was persistent, for sure, but I knew when to bow out.”

“If she looks at Sherlock one more time…”

Everyone had become so annoyed with Janine, that Molly had apologized to Sally, and the two had made up. Not long after that, Sherlock proposed the idea of teaming up with John, Mary, Greg, and Phillip to catch her in the act to Sally and Molly. They then started meeting in the dorm room of Kitty Riley, the school’s newspaper reporter, who was assisting them in the process of creating an exposé on Janine’s shenanigans.

* * *

“We all know she’s flirted with practically every man in the school,” Mary quipped, two weeks into Janine’s stay.

“I’ve caught her snogging five times after P.E.,” Phillip remarked. “And with a different guy each time.” He held up photographs. “I got photos of all five encounters.”

Greg raised a brow. “I’m going to pretend your sudden interest in photography isn’t weird.”

“I heard she shagged Bobby Reynolds,” John offered, sparing poor Phillip.

“But,” Molly interrupted. “she’s a date ‘em and dump ‘em sort of girl, and she keeps coming back to Sherlock.” Three times today, Janine had questioned Sherlock as to why he was dating Molly, and the aspiring pathologist was livid.

He twined their fingers. “I’m not going to give up my girl just because some hormonal girl with too much makeup has the hots for me.”

Molly smiled, and laid her head on Sherlock’s shoulder.

* * *

The next week, Molly sat alone in study hall. Sherlock and Greg had gone off on a case, but she’d needed to stay behind and study for a big exam. She was happily listening to a violin concerto that Sherlock had recorded for her, reviewing her Anatomy notes.

Eventually, Molly was aware of a presence beside her. She pulled her earbuds out and turned to face the intruder.

Janine.

Molly rolled her eyes and returned them to her notes. “What do you want, Janine?”

“I just want to apologize.”

Molly scoffed. “For what? Trying to sabotage my relationship?”

Janine stifled a sob. “No. I wasn’t trying. I didn’t realize I was leading poor Sherl on. He...he came on to me last night. I tried to fend him off, but he’s...he’s too much. I’m...I’m sorry, Molly. I know how much he meant to you.”

Molly slowly turned to face Janine, and burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? There are things you don’t know about Sherlock. Things I know that tell me that of all the underhanded things he could do to betray me, cheating is not one of them. Not to mention, you really should check your sources before you fabricate a lie like that. Sherlock was with John all last night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m...what are you saying?”

Janine wiped her eyes. “I’m saying that Sherl isn’t the Prince Charming you think he is.” She stood and sauntered off.

Something about the phrase “Prince Charming” struck a nerve with Molly. What if Janine wasn’t lying?

Undeniably, Janine was a man-jumper. Their little group had amassed enough evidence to prove that. However, anytime they’d questioned a boy about it, he’d been all too willing to spill the details on the beautiful girl he’d been with the night previous. Sherlock, on the other hand, held firmly that he’d never even entertained thoughts of that nature about Janine.

Perhaps Molly was overreacting. Sherlock had never lied to her before; why should he now?

Of course, the idea to expose Janine had also been his. Investigating her misdeeds would serve as the perfect cover.

“Say your prayers, Holmes,” Molly hissed.

* * *

“I can’t believe you identified a serial killer,” Greg praised.

Sherlock shook his head. “I told you. Don’t mention it. I’m just glad we got him off the streets.”

Greg nodded. “Well, thanks.”

Sherlock turned and entered into his dorm room. “Sherlock Holmes. You messed with the wrong aspiring pathologist.”

He flipped on the light. “Molly. What are you talking about?”

She stood and slowly paced towards him. “I’m talking about how you were with ‘John’ all night.”

Sherlock was confused. “Yes. I was helping him study chemical reactions.”

She laughed cynically. “So you’re not a total liar. I heard you were studying chemistry, but with a different ‘J’. Specifically, Janine.”

His jaw dropped. “Molly, who told you such lies?”

“I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. Guess your plan to cover your tracks with our little version of ‘Mystery Incorporated.’” Her voice broke. “I thought...I thought I meant something to you. I guess I was wrong.” She went to move past him, but he grabbed her arm.

“Molly Hooper. I can’t believe you. You think I would leave you? I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else. For God’s sake, I didn’t love Irene half as much as I love you.”

Tears formed in Molly’s eyes. “You...you love me?”

Sherlock took her face between his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “Of course I love you, Molly.”

She threw her arms about his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up off the ground. “I love you, Sherlock. So much. So, so much. I’m so sorry I doubted you. I guess I got insecure, because she’s so lovely, and everyone wants her.”

He set her down on her feet. “I don’t. I want you.” He leaned in. Just then, John and Mary burst through the door.

Sherlock groaned. “Seriously? Every bloody time!”

Molly chuckled. “C’mon. I think we need to call an emergency meeting.”

* * *

The eight teens were soon congregated in Kitty’s room.

“I know we’ve been annoyed with Janine. I think everyone is, but I draw the line when she starts telling lies to get what she wants,” Sherlock growled. “No one hurts my friends and gets away with it.”

Sally nodded. “For once, I agree with the freak. Molly’s been nothing but nice, even though Janine’s been coming on to her boyfriend for three weeks. This latest development was underhanded and cruel.”

The girlfriend in question, with a devious plot in mind, muttered, “We should give her a taste of her own medicine.”

“Molly, you’re a genius,” Sherlock exclaimed. “If I go in as bait, and Kitty’s hiding somewhere with a video camera, we have video and audio evidence.”

“Not Kitty,” Molly interjected. “Send Sally.”

The whole room looked at her. Molly blushed, and cleared her throat. “No offense, Kitty, but as a reporter, your word’s less credible, because you have the means to edit the information. No one really knows that Sally and I made up. The whole school, and likely Headmaster Magnussen, still believes that Sally hates me and Sherlock. It’d be totally believable that Sally heard the two of them talking somewhere, and videotaped the encounter to sabotage Sherlock, and instead caught Janine trying to seduce him. Sherlock could call her out on her other crimes, and then we’d have her.”

Greg chuckled. “Molly, that is the most devious thing I’ve ever heard. And I love it.”

Everyone agreed to the brilliantly devious plot that Molly devised.

* * *

That Friday, it was set up perfectly. Sally was stationed in Greg’s room with Phillip, under the pretense that Phillip was visiting his cousin, video camera at the ready. Sherlock was sitting outside his dorm, pretending that John was out, and that he’d forgotten his key.

Janine came around the corner, and gave a sultry smile when she saw Sherlock. “Hey, Sherl. What are you doing out so late?”

“I forgot my key, and am waiting for John to get home so he can open the door. Molly is studying and I’m not going to disturb her to let me into hers for a while.” These were the preplanned code words, and Sally, who’d been filming a staged video of Phillip and Greg dancing, carefully opened the door and turned the camera on Janine and Sherlock, retaining a hidden position.

“Well, lucky for you, Sherl, I have my key. You can stay in my room.”

He chuckled nervously. “That’s okay, Janine. I’m fine right here, and I really don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate me hanging out in another girl’s room without telling her.”

Janine stepped closer to Sherlock. “What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. I won’t tell.”

Sherlock backed away, hitting the wall. “I don’t really feel comfortable with the situation.”

Janine pressed her body flush against his, her fingers dancing over his chest. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in my room.”

“Is that what you told Bobby Reynolds? And the five guys you snogged after P.E.?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“I have sources. Photographic evidence. Don’t try to lie.”

Janine did not get that the jig was up, and attempted to seduce him once more. “So I shagged Bobby. So I kissed Steven, Rupert, Earl, Mark, and Andrew. I only did so to make you jealous.”

At this Sherlock actually laughed. “Are you insane? I don’t find you appealing as girlfriend material, nor do I even like you as a person. Why am I supposed to be jealous?”

Janine hissed and stepped far from Sherlock. “You messed with the wrong girl, Holmes.”

When Janine was out of earshot, Sherlock called, “Did you get that, Sally?”

“Loud and clear, freak.”

“Love you too, Donovan.”

She fought back a grin. “I did it for Molly, okay. Don’t go thinking we’re friends or something.”

Sherlock laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

The next day, all eight teens knocked on Headmaster Magnussen’s office door. It swung open to reveal Janine weeping crocodile tears into her uncle’s shoulder.

“Oh, great,” Sally muttered. “She beat us here.”

“Sherlock, I’m pleased you’re here already. It saves me the trouble of calling you all down here. Now, I’m not one to accuse without hearing both sides of the story, but my Janine tells me that you tried to seduce her, and take advantage of her.”

Sherlock snorted, and his seven compatriots rolled their eyes. “Headmaster, I do believe it was the other way around,” Sally piped up.

Magnussen turned his gaze on Sally. “Do you have something to say, Miss Donovan?”

Sally cleared her throat. “Last night, I was taking a video of Phillip and Greg.”

Magnussen raised a brow. “A video of what, pray tell?”

“They were mocking how girls dance. And I heard Janine and Sherlock talking in the hallway. I opened the door to see what was going on. I brought my camera with me, and caught the whole thing on tape. See for yourself.”

“J’accuse,” Mary murmured.

The Headmaster watched the tape, no reaction present on his face, other than an occasional raised brow. The eight teens stood tensely, and Molly moved to take Sherlock’s hand.

When the film ended, Headmaster Magnussen stood. “Well, well. This certainly changes things.” He straightened his glasses. “Janine, if you would remain here, the rest of you are dismissed.”

The eight teens swiftly returned to John and Sherlock’s room. As soon as the door closed, a cheer went up.

* * *

Two days later, Kitty came bounding up to the lunch table. “Hey, guess what I just heard?”

“What?”

“Well, apparently Janine was sent here to keep her in line. She’s from a strict Catholic family, and her shenanigans were getting her in trouble, so her parents sent her here  as a last resort to a Catholic girl’s school. They figured that if she had a family member present at the school she’d stay out of trouble. Apparently, the distance from home had the opposite effect. She’s off to the convent.”

Molly grinned. “Good riddance. No one steals my man.” She slung a protective arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. He looped an arm around Molly’s waist. “Like I said, it’ll take more than a hormonal girl wearing too much makeup to pull me away from my Molly.” He kissed her forehead.

Sally scoffed. “And you accuse me and Phillip of being the king and queen of PDA.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Sherlock and Molly don’t stick their tongues down the other’s throats in public.”

“Harhar,” Phillip snarked. “You’re just jealous Greg, that you don’t have a girl to snog.”

The silver-haired boy rolled his eyes, and shot a look at Sherlock. The raven-haired boy shook his head slightly, and smirked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It moved too fast. I know it did. If anyone can give me some angst writing pointers, they'd be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this either way, and if you did, leave a comment or a kudos. <3


	10. Christmas Time Is Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting your significant other's family is a momentous occasion. Spending a major holiday with your significant other's family is as well. Of course Sherlock would have to face both at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, back to my shameless fluff. I hope this makes up for the disaster that was last chapter. I'm so sorry I put you all through that. Anyway, I know I've been a long time in updating, but the next few chapters are holiday oriented, and I wanted to wait until at least December. The first time I posted this on FFN, we celebrated Christmas in July. Thought I'd do it right, for once.  
> I hope you all are enjoying this story, and haven't given up after last chapter.  
> Thank you to all who have commented, left kudos, or bookmarked this work! It means so much to me!  
> Disclaimer: You know the drill. Sherlock isn't mine. If it were, we wouldn't have such bloody long hiatuses.

Christmas vacation was in a week. The excitement in the air at Appledore was tangible, and all was seemingly right with world.

Mary, in the mess with Janine, had forgotten to mention that her pregnancy was just a false alarm. It wasn’t until four days before Christmas break began that she got a chance to tell Molly.

“I’m sorry, Molly. I was too busy saving your boyfriend from Janine to inform you that I am not pregnant.” Mary munched on an apple, perched on a table at the library.

Molly rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sorry that I want to know whether I’m going to be an aunt or not.”

Mary chuckled. “I’m am sorry.” She cast her eyes on the package beside Molly. “On another note, I think Sherlock’s going to love his Christmas present.”

Molly bit her lip. The girls had just returned from a shopping excursion, and Molly had had all sorts of trouble trying to find a suitable gift for Sherlock. “I hope so. It’s rather simple.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it. Oh! Speak of the devil!”

Just then, Sherlock appeared at Molly’s side. “I hate to interrupt ladies, but Molly here needs to pack.”

Molly bid her friend adieu, and gratefully took Sherlock’s hand.

When Mary was out of earshot, Sherlock leaned down and whispered, “John tells me that he’s giving Mary an engagement ring for Christmas.”

Molly gasped. “Really! That’s wonderful!”

“I think so, too.” He smiled wistfully at her before clearing his throat. “C’mon. You do need to pack, and I need to arrange for your present. I’m hoping it will arrive at your home on Christmas Day.”

By that time, the two had reached Molly’s room, and she realized that she had no idea what her boyfriend would be doing over the holiday break. Privately, she had wished that he could come home with her; she knew it was selfish, but she hated the thought of any time spent away from the raven-haired boy beside her. Still, she knew that even his family must have plans for the holiday season. “Sherlock,” Molly said, blushing. “I’m a terrible girlfriend. What are your plans for Christmas?”

Sherlock shrugged unaffectedly. “My parents are traveling in the Caribbean, and my brother has some sort of political event going on. I’ll probably stay here.”

Molly stopped dead in her tracks.

Two thoughts fought for dominance in her mind.

One: What sort of family doesn’t ensure everyone has a place to go on Christmas?

Two: Perhaps this was the chance for Molly to indulge in her selfish musings!

“What are you talking about? You’re not staying here. You’ll-” She pretended to fumble for a solution, concealing the fact that she’d already found one. “You’ll come home with me. My parents would love to have you,” she blurted, not at all sure her parents would be alright with this arrangement.

“I can’t, Molly. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She sighed. “You wouldn’t be imposing,” she declared, though it was more to assure herself that she’d not made a promise she couldn’t keep. “I insist. You’re my boyfriend, and I’m not letting you be alone on Christmas. Christmas is a time for family and togetherness, not loneliness. Go, get your bags packed. We’ll send them ahead of us.”

Sherlock raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Sherlock. I’m sure!”

* * *

Luckily for Molly, her parents were enthralled with the idea of meeting her boyfriend, and four days later, classes ended, and the students were excused. Molly and Sherlock bade John, Mary, Greg, Sally, and Phillip farewell, and hopped on a train back to London.

* * *

Molly had never seen Sherlock’s spine so rigid. “Love, what’s the matter? You’re so tense.”

Sherlock bit his lip. “What if...what if your family doesn’t like me?” Molly twined her fingers with his. “They will. I promise. Just be yourself.”

* * *

 

Molly stood on her toes, trying to locate her family in the sea of people at the train station. “Curse my wretched shortness!”

Sherlock smirked, and crouched down. “Hop on, shortstuff.”

Molly clambered onto his back, securing her legs around his waist.

Now that her eyeline was over six feet off the ground, Molly had a much better view of the crowd. She craned her neck around, and finally spotted them. Pointing, she squealed, “There they are!”

Sherlock followed her arm to lay eyes on her family. He mother was the spitting image of Molly, though her hair was graying around the edges. Her father was a well-built man of average height, with salt and peppery hair. Her little sister, Olivia, was a cherubic little girl, with innumerable freckles and unruly, springy red curls.

“Come on, Sherlock!” He took off in the direction she indicated.

Sherlock stopped a few yards away, and let Molly down, so they could approach in a more civilised manner.

Molly took off to envelope her whole family in a group hug.

“Leelee, I missed you,” her little sister exclaimed.

She grinned. “I missed you, too, Livi.”

Sherlock looked at his feet and awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Oh,” Molly exclaimed, remembering her companion, and dragging Sherlock forward. “Everyone, this is Sherlock.”

He blushed, and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

Mrs. Hooper unexpectedly pulled him into her arms. “We’re thrilled to meet you, too.”

When she released him, he offered a hand to Mr. Hooper, who clasped it warmly. “Welcome, to the family, Sherlock.” 

* * *

 

The car ride to the Hooper’s home was very pleasant, far more so than Sherlock had anticipated.  Olivia babbled happily about the holiday party her class had thrown. When the little girl finally ran out of things to say, Mr. and Mrs. Hooper began to question the two teenagers.

“What do you want to pursue, in way of a career, Sherlock,” Molly’s father wanted to know.

“I’m going to be a consulting detective.”

Mrs. Hooper’s eyebrows raised. “What’s that?”

“When the police are out of their element, which is always, they consult me.”

“He can deduce almost everything about you at a glance,” Molly supplied proudly. “The police already bring him out on cases.”

“I see. Do you mind giving us a display of this skill set,” Mr. Hooper inquired.

“Not at all, Mr. Hooper. Let’s see.” Sherlock paused for a moment as he surveyed his girlfriend’s father. “You are a surgeon, and well-liked by your family and friends. Your parents divorced when you were eight, and you lived primarily with you mother and older sister. You met Mrs. Hooper in uni. Love at first sight. You have a penchant for mystery and crime novels, and are an accomplished chess player.”

Mr. Hooper’s jaw dropped and then turned into a grin. “Glad to see you’ve picked someone smart, Molly.”

Molly smiled and grasped Sherlock’s hand. “He’s an absolute genius.”

* * *

Sherlock’s room in the Hooper house was right next to Molly’s. He was unpacking when a knock came at the door. He walked over and opened it. “Oh, hello, Mr. Hooper.”

“Sherlock, hi. May I come in?”

“Of course. It’s your house. Thank you again for allowing me to stay here.”

Mr. Hooper smiled. “Of course. Well, I’m just going to cut to the chase. Has Molly told you anything about Jim?”

Sherlock nodded. “The important parts, yes.”

“Then you understand why I’m here?”

“You’re about to tell me to do my level best not to hurt her,” Sherlock guessed.

Mr. Hooper nodded. “Are you prepared for an ultimatum?”

Sherlock swallowed. He’d never had to deal with parents before. “I-I think so.”

Molly’s father cleared her throat. “I trust my daughter’s judgement. She trusts you, so I trust you. So long as you don’t betray that trust, you will be treated as a part of this family. You betray my trust, or hurt my girl, I will make you wish you’d never been born.”

Sherlock nodded nervously. Hoping to alleviate some of the tension in the room, he quipped, “Does that mean I can’t kiss her if we get caught under the mistletoe?”

Mr. Hooper laughed. “You are both almost eighteen. I can’t keep you under my thumb forever. Like I said, I trust her judgement. For what it’s worth, I won’t mind if you kiss her. Just...I don’t want any grandkids yet.”

Sherlock’s cheeks flared as he understood Mr. Hooper’s meaning. The older man chuckled and clapped Sherlock on the back. “C’mon. Mrs. Hooper’s making dinner.”

* * *

While her father was lecturing Sherlock, Molly was talking with her mother.

“Sherlock seems like a sweet boy,” Mrs. Hooper said, sniffing the soup.

Molly smiled dreamily over the rolls she’d just removed from the oven. “The sweetest. He really cares about me.”

Mrs. Hooper laughed merrily. “Cares about you? Molly, have you seen the way he looks at you? He’s absolutely in love with you. Hasn’t he told you that?”

Molly nodded. “Once, but he didn’t have to, though. He shows me in his own way.”

Mrs. Hooper grinned mischievously. “Are his kisses that sweet?”

Her daughter blushed. “I wouldn’t know. He and I, well, we take things slowly.”

Mrs. Hooper smiled and ruffled Molly’s hair.  “All things in time, love. C’mon. Let’s go eat.”

Molly carried out a stack of dishes, followed by her mother with the soup. The rest of the family, Sherlock included, was standing around the table expectantly.

“I hope you all are hungry,” Mrs. Hooper said.

Everyone, including Sherlock, agreed emphatically.

* * *

“See, Sherlock, I told you they’d like you,” Molly said, sitting next to him on the chaise in her room.

He sighed. “Your parents and sister like me. We still can’t speak for your grandparents and aunts and uncles.”

“Sherlock, their opinion doesn’t matter to me. You’ve ran the gauntlet and passed the test.” She hugged him tight. “Did my dad talk to you,” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “You seemed a bit nervous at dinner.”

He nodded, unconsciously shifting out of her embrace.

Molly rolled her eyes. Leave it to her father to scare off Sherlock Holmes. “Are you going to be in trouble being in my room, then?”

“He told me that he trusts your judgement, and so long as we don’t give him any grandchildren anytime soon, my name’s not Mud.” Sherlock seemed truly terrified of Molly’s father.

Molly giggled. “My dad’s secretly a giant teddy bear. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Sherlock kissed her cheek. “I hope so. Remind me all who’s coming.”

Molly counted her relatives off on her fingers. “Tomorrow, mum’s parents, Grandma Margie, and Grandpa Joe. The day after, on Christmas, Dad’s mum, Grandmother, and my great-aunt Marisol.”

Sherlock’s brow raised curiously.

“Yes that Great-Aunt Marisol,” Molly replied, understanding what had piqued his interest. “Also, my Aunt Lara and Uncle Martin will arrive with my cousins Ben and Loo. Twins. Both nine.”

“Anyone I should walk on eggshells with,” Sherlock asked, hoping to stay in the good graces of as much of Molly’s family as was humanly possible.

Molly grinned. “Only Great-Aunt Marisol and Grandmother. Ignore whatever they say to you. They’re both old bats with no sense of humor.”

Sherlock nodded. “So...definitely don’t mention our baby pig?”

She shoved his shoulder. “You’re impossible,” she told him through her giggles.

He grinned. “And yet you keep me around.”

“Well, I’ve grown rather a bit fond of you, Sherlock.”

He leaned towards her. “Just a bit fond of me, Miss Hooper?”

Molly’s breath caught, and she found herself angling herself toward him. “Well, perhaps more than a bit.”

Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart when a knock came at the door, and Mrs. Hooper poked her head in. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The two teens shook their heads, pointedly looking away from each other. “No.”

She smiled. “Well, then. I just wanted to tell you that it’s getting late, and you should get some rest. The next two days will be long ones.”

The matron gave them both a kiss on the forehead before bidding them goodnight.

Sherlock stood. “I guess that’s my cue to go. Goodnight.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss just beyond the corner of her mouth. As he walked away, his eyes shone at her.

The declaration of love was apparent in his eyes, and the words unbidden spilled from Molly’s lips. “I love you, too.”

As soon as the door shut, Molly flopped backwards, sprawling out along her chaise and groaned. She’d lost count of how many times they’d almost kissed. It was almost as if it were a running gag. She was sick of it.

With a start, she sat up. She, Molly Hooper, was going to kiss Sherlock Holmes before the end of this break if it were the last thing she ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this chapter make up for the last one? I hope it did. If you enjoyed, leave a kudos behind, or tell me what you thought in a comment! I really appreciate the feedback!


	11. Les Incompetents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the rest of Molly's family arrives, Sherlock is exposed to some...unique family traditions. What will he bring to the party?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and so soon! I'm posting this and Chapter 12 today, as I don't know how much time I'll have in the coming weeks. This chapter, as mentioned, details some Christmas shenanigans. Hope you all enjoy it! Love you! xx

The next morning, Sherlock rose early, fashioning the only Holmes family Christmas tradition he enjoyed upholding. He found an unused broom in a closet, and taking only the handle, he tied a sprig of mistletoe to the end. Pleased with his handiwork, he laid the stick down, and went to take a shower.

Molly had been up half the night brewing plan after plan to earn that kiss from Sherlock. Her distraction carried into the morning, rendering her unaware of the sound of running water when she approached the door to his room. She knocked. “Sherlock?”

Only then did she hear the sounds of the shower, and stepped into his room. Sleep deprived and love struck, her train of thought became deviant. Perhaps if she showed him what she wanted...

Sherlock walked out, clad only in a towel, and stopped short, not having heard Molly’s arrival.

“Umm, Molly.” He bit his lip, taking in the sight of her. She was languidly draped across his bed, her tight, dark wash jeans, and red jumper accentuating her every curve, his creation in her hand.

When she laid eyes on him, she sat up, raising a brow at his state of undress. She practically sashayed over to him, twirling the stick in her hand. “Sherlock, what’s this,” she purred.

He cleared his throat. “It’s, um, it’s a kissing stick.”

She stepped closer, and Sherlock could feel her breath on his throat. “I like it.” Standing on her toes, she pressed a rather open-mouthed kiss to his pulse. A moment later, she jumped back. “Now, put your clothes on,” she ordered cheerfully, as if she hadn’t just acted as though she were some dominatrix.

* * *

Sherlock exited five minutes later, in his usual black pants, and a red shirt, kissing stick in hand, wielded like a weapon. He was still a bit confused about the exchange that had just occurred between himself and Molly.

Molly snuck up on him, and jumped on his back. “Onward, my love. Down the stairs!”

Laughing, Sherlock carried her down, the stick held at arm’s length like a jousting spear. They snuck up behind Molly’s parents and dangled the stick about their head.

“Ooh,” Olivia squealed, having caught on to the teenagers’ shenanigans. “Mummy! Daddy! You’re under the mistletoe.”

The two adults looked up, and rolled their eyes affectionately at the teens. They leaned in and gave each other a quick peck. “Whose idea was this?”

“Sherlock’s.”

Mr. and Mrs. Hooper smiled. Suddenly, Olivia ran under the stick. “I want a Tisentine smooch!”

Putting Molly down, Sherlock scooped the little girl up and pecked her on the cheek. “Happy Tisentine, Olivia Hooper.” The seven year old giggled, and Sherlock gently set her back on her feet.

Molly dragged him to her side, giving him a smacking kiss on his cheek, very close to his mouth. “You are the sweetest,” she whispered, smirking as she watched the blush run up his neck.

* * *

After breakfast, Molly’s grandparents arrived. They were very sweet people. Margie and Joe, as they insisted later that Sherlock call them, handed out hugs and kisses as soon as they were in the door.

“Oh, Molly! This must be Sherlock! It’s great to meet you, sweetheart,” Margie exclaimed.

“Likewise, Margie.”

Joe spotted the stick. “Ah. Have you gotten much use out of that, young man?”

Sherlock grinned. “Spreading holiday joy to one and all.” Then, smiling like the devil, he pulled the stick up above Margie and Joe’s head. The two pecked each other on the lips. He missed the slight scowl that Molly sent him; she hadn’t gotten much use out of it.

Olivia tugged on her grandmother’s trouser leg. “Can we make the gingy houses, now?”

Scooping her granddaughter up, Margie replied, “Of course, darling. Sherlock, Molly, would you like to help?”

Sherlock looked a bit apprehensive, but Molly nodded. “Come on, Sherlock. Baking’s not that hard.”

He sighed. “Alright.”

* * *

Three hours later, there were two new additions to the Hooper home, thanks to the SOMM Construction Company, as Margie dubbed them.

Olivia and Margie had constructed a quintessentially cute and traditional house.

Sherlock and Molly had constructed a miniature model of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

“Bit macabre for Christmas, don’t you think?”

“Grandma,” Molly replied, “if we live in London, both Sherlock and my intended careers will likely lead us to St. Bart’s.”

Margie ruffled Sherlock and Molly’s hair. “I’m just ragging on you both. I think it’s lovely.”

Mr. Hooper and Joe entered. “Wow. Those gingerbread houses look fantastic.”

Just then, Sherlock’s phone buzzed.

_Sherlock. Skype. NOW! - JW_

He grinned. “Molly, can we use your laptop?” She nodded. He grabbed Molly’s hand and dragged her toward the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Sherlock stopped, realizing he’d given no excuse for his and Molly’s sudden departure. “I’m sorry to steal Molly, but my best friend wants to Skype me to tell me that his girlfriend accepted his proposal.”

* * *

As soon as the connection was made, Mary and Molly screamed, gleeful to see each other again. Mary held her left hand up to the screen, displaying an elegant diamond ring.

“Oh my gosh,” Molly exclaimed, feigning surprise. “That is gorgeous! John did well. I’m so happy for you, Mary!”

John edged into the frame. “Hey, Sherlock. Molly.”

“John,” Sherlock informed him, “I think the girls’ screams broke the speed of sound. I’m still partially deaf.”

“Har-har,” Mary retorted.

“Yeah, very funny,” Molly supplied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “How’s Christmas in the Watson household?”

“Great! You?”

“Wonderful!”

* * *

A while later, John and Mary had to log off, but not before they’d also met the entire Hooper household. Molly had insisted to Sherlock that they bring their conversation downstairs so as not to appear antisocial. As a result, each member of Molly’s family ended up meeting the newly engaged couple.

“John and Mary seem nice,” Mrs. Hooper mused, coming in from the kitchen. It was a Hooper family tradition to eat homemade pizza on Christmas Eve.

“Bit young to be marrying, though,” Mr. Hooper said. His apprehension to getting married so young had been made very apparent.

“Oh, tush,” Margie argued. “Joe and I were married before we were seventeen.”

“Besides,” Molly supplied. “If they’re married before they get their degrees, they won’t have to worry about changing names on licenses.”

Mr. Hooper rolled his eyes. “So, you should get married now, to avoid potential legal issues?”

“No, but dad…”

“No buts. I don’t want you to have legal trouble. Sherlock, hope you have a ring ready.”

“Both of you, stop it.” Mrs. Hooper put a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

The tension in the room was thicker than pea soup. Finally, the timer on the pizza dinged.

“Pizza,” Olivia squealed. Everyone chuckled at the second grader’s antics.

“It’s funny how a disagreement always accompanies this Christmas Eve pizza. It’s like ‘Home Alone’.”

“What’s ‘Home Alone’,” Sherlock asked.

Everyone gasped. “You’ve never seen ‘Home Alone’?”

“No,” Sherlock replied, quite uncomfortable to have every eye turned on him.

“Living room. Now.”

* * *

Though the Hooper clan thoroughly enjoyed the film, Sherlock struggled to keep his mouth shut. While funny, Kevin’s antics would prove lethal to the two thugs. When Sherlock told Molly as much, she whispered, “It’s just a movie, Sherlock.”

He grinned, “I know. I know.”

* * *

The next day, Molly rose bright and early, wanting to look perfect on Christmas. This was something she’d done every Christmas since puberty, as Great-Aunt Marisol was always criticizing something about her. However, this year, she was dressing up for Sherlock, determined to get her kiss.

She pulled out the dress she’d bought at the end of Christmas break last year. It was red and fairly close fitting. It was reasonably modest, hanging to her knees, with long sleeves, that just capped her shoulders, leading to a scoop neck that showed off her collarbones nicely.

Molly swept her hair off her neck into an elegant ponytail. She didn’t bother with makeup, knowing she’d probably botch it anyway.

She stepped out of her room, steeling herself for the arrival of the family. Sherlock appeared at her side. “You look beautiful.”

Molly blushed. “Thank you. You look pretty dashing yourself.”

Sherlock did look flawless in his black suit, the crisp, white shirt making even his alabaster complexion appear slightly flushed.

He offered her his arm. “Shall we? Your family’s just arrived.”

Molly sucked in a deep breath, and looped her arm in his. “Let’s do this thing.”

They descended the stairs, and, as her entire family turned to look up at the two, Molly imagined herself a princess making the grand entrance to a state ball, her handsome prince at her side.

* * *

As soon as the two were down the stairs, Molly was accosted by Great-Aunt Marisol. “Margaret, look at you! You look so tired! Why didn’t you paint your face? It’s a wonder you managed to snag a beau at all.”

“Sherlock happens to like my face without paint, Aunt,” Molly said, annoyed that her great-aunt had ruined the magic of the moment.

Marisol rolled her eyes. “You’re more foolish that I thought if you believe that hogwash.”

Molly’s fingers tightened on Sherlock’s arm. Luckily, Molly was saved from her great-aunt’s cruelty by her cousins bounding in. “Molly!”

Molly caught a twin in each arm. “Merry Christmas,” they chorused in unison.

“Merry Christmas.”

Ben eyed Sherlock. “Who’s that?”

Molly grinned. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock.”

The twins giggled. “Molly has a boyfriend,” Ben teased.

“Does she, now,” A gruff voice asked. Molly gasped. “Uncle Martin! Aunt Lara!” She embraced the two. Stepping back, she gestured to Sherlock. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Martin and Lara smiled. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Everyone! Get in here! Don’t lurk in doorways,” Mrs. Hooper called.

They all retreated to the sitting room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short chapters. They were short originally, and I haven't had time to make any extensive changes to them. Let me know what you thought in a comment! Thank you to those who have already left comments or kudos! <3


	12. Je T'Aime, Mon Chéri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve has come and gone. Will Molly ever get that kiss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for the short chapters. However, this one is especially momentous and fluffy, so hopefully it makes up for it. Hope you enjoy, loves!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock in any manner.

Mr. and Mrs. Hooper flitted about, constantly making sure everyone was comfortable, refilling glasses, and being sociable hosts.

Margie and Joe sat with Ben and Loo on their laps. Ethel, or “Grandmother,” and Marisol sat refined, both knitting and scolding.

Sherlock sat with Molly perched on his knees, his gaze on her family, cold and calculating. She tapped him on the nose, leaning in close. “If you’re going to deduce my family, you could at least entertain me.”

Sherlock grinned. “I was just finding faults with Marisol.”

“Such as?”

“She suffers rheumatism, though that’s fairly obvious from her hands. She lives with her sister, as she was never married. Likely, she used to be a nice person, though plain. She grew bitter toward anyone better looking than and with better relationships that her. Hence why she harasses you.”

Molly blushed at Sherlock’s thinly veiled compliment. “It’s not hard to be better looking than her.”

He smirked. Marisol’s piercing gaze fell on the teens. “What are you two grinning at?”

“Nothing,” Molly sang. She whispered to Sherlock. “I’ll be right back.”

She ran upstairs and grabbed the kissing stick.

Sneaking up behind Martin and Lara, Molly dangled the stick over their heads. “Look who’s under the mistletoe,” Sherlock sang.

The two blushed and kissed.

Marisol scoffed, which did not get past Sherlock. He pulled the stick from Molly’s hand and ran to Marisol’s side. Holding the stick above his head, he pressed a smacking kiss to the old bat’s cheek.

She gasped, horrified. “Such shenanigans!”

Sherlock snickered. “Come on Molly. Bring Olivia.”

“Can we come,” Ben and Loo chorused. Sherlock looked to their parents, who nodded assent.

“Sherlock, where are we going,” Molly asked.

“Out.”

“What are we doing?”

He grinned wickedly. “Shenanigans.”

* * *

Sherlock helped Molly bundle up her sister and cousins. Leading them outside, Molly gasped to see a perfect Winter Wonderland. She bent down to scoop a handful of snow, and threw it in the air, creating her own little flurry.

She looked over to see her sister and cousins engaged in a snowball fight with Sherlock. She shook her head affectionately, turning her face up to view the wintry sky.

Just then, a chunk of snow hit Molly square on the side of the head. Molly’s head whipped around to see Sherlock grinning.

“Hi,” he said, wiggling his fingers at her.

She scowled, leaning down to scoop up more snow. She then lobbed it at Sherlock, hitting him square in the mouth.

“You little witch,” he spat, through a mouthful of snow.

Ben, Loo, and Olivia giggled. “She got you good, Sherlock.”

His eyes glinted deviously. “Yes, and she’s going to get it next.”

Olivia gasped. “Watch out, Molly!”

Molly whirled around, and called to her sister and cousins, “Get him!”

The three children trapped Sherlock’s legs in their arms, knocking him into a snowdrift. “Hey, this is blackmail! No fair!”

By then, Molly had filled her arms with a pile of snow. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

She dumped it on his head.

Sherlock shook his head like a dog, clearing the snow from his face, revealing an award winning pout.

Molly’s voice became sing-songy. “Aww, do we have a sore loser?”

Sherlock snorted. “Just help me up.” Molly reached down to help him up, only to have Sherlock kick her feet out from under her, landing her in the snowdrift next to him.

Molly gasped indignantly. “That wasn’t nice, Sherlock.”

This time, Sherlock was sincere. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Let me help you up.”

He stood, taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. Her foot slipped on some ice, and she crashed into Sherlock’s chest.

Instinctively, he cinched his arms around her waist, holding her tight against him.

Molly looked up gratefully.“Thank y-” She inhaled sharply, as her face was suddenly inches from Sherlock’s. Specifically, the fact that their lips were approximately an inch-and-a-half apart.

Molly held her breath, eyeing the hand that Sherlock was ghosting over her jaw.

He’d wanted to kiss her all day, and seeing her breathless and pink-cheeked made her downright irresistible.

Just then, Mrs. Hooper called, “Sherlock! Molly! Come on! Dinner’s ready.” At some point they had missed the initial call, which had drawn the three youngsters inside already.

Molly exhaled slowly, cleared her throat, and stepped back. “C’mon. We should go inside.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Miraculously, dinner went off without a hitch. It was time to open presents.

The adults had a rule that they didn’t buy anything for each other. Only the children received gifts. Molly sat in the middle of the floor, amongst her cousins and sister, and a mess of wrapping paper. Occasionally, she would look up and send a smile Sherlock’s way, but she couldn’t keep eye contact, as Sherlock’s penetrating gaze was making her stomach do flips.

* * *

 

Finally, all the gifts had been passed out, and it was very late.

Ben, Loo, and Olivia were practically dead on their feet, and so their parents took them up and put them to bed. Molly’s grandparents had gone to bed hours ago.

At last, Molly and Sherlock were alone in front of the glowing embers in the fireplace. Molly gently sat on his knee. She ran a hand through his hair, and rested her forehead on his. “Hey, you.”

He smiled. “Hello.” He glanced around the empty room. “Should we head to bed?”

She smiled. “We can. We don’t have to sleep, though. We could watch a movie, or something.”

“ _Something like kissing,_ ” she thought dejectedly.

“That would be nice.”

“I have something for you.” She stood and picked up a box next to the fireplace. She returned and set it in his lap. He eyed it curiously. “Well, go on. Open it.”

He slowly pulled the lid off the box, and raised a brow at the blue fabric. He could tell right away that this had cost her more than a pretty penny. “You got me a…”

Molly rolled her eyes, and pulled it out of the box, revealing it to be a scarf. She looped it around his neck.

“I got you a scarf. Do you like it?”

He nodded. “Of course I do. Would you like your gift now?”

She nodded and swung her hair over one shoulder. “What is it?”  

He held up a black jewelry box. She took it out of his hand, and lifted the lid.

“Oh, Sherlock,” she breathed. It was a necklace with a pendant in the shape of an anatomically accurate heart. The pendant was about the size of the indentation in the palm of her hand.

Sherlock was nervous. Did one usually give gifts so extravagant on their first Christmas together? “Do you like it? If you don’t, I could-” He was cut short by Molly throwing her arms around his neck.

“I love it. Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

Sherlock took the necklace from her hand and clasped it around her neck. “There. You look lovely.”

Molly blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap. When she looked back up, Sherlock’s pupils were blown out, and Molly was reminded of the morning on the roof. The flip-flop in her stomach returned, and Molly felt her heartbeat spike. Suddenly, she found herself on her feet. “Yes, well, thank you.” She began to walk quickly to the staircase, her thoughts racing.

_“What am I doing? He’d been about to kiss me, and what did I do? I ran away. God, I’m an idiot.”_

“Molly,” she heard behind her. She slowly turned around. “Yes, Sherlock?”

“I...look on the back of the heart.”

Molly narrowed her eyes, and pulled the pendant up in front of her. “Je t'aime, mon chéri,” she sounded out. “I don’t...I don’t speak French.”

Sherlock bit his lip. “It, uh, it means...it means ‘I love you, my darling’.” He stepped close, one hand going to her waist, the other reaching down to cup her cheek. His eyes searched her face for a reaction.

Molly’s face burned crimson. “Je t’aime, mon chéri.” Somehow, the words felt less foreign on her tongue know that she knew their meaning, and knew that she felt the same way that Sherlock did.

“Je t’aime,” he whispered, sending shivers down Molly’s spine. He leaned toward her, and finally, with no unwanted interruptions, pressed his lips against hers.

Initially, Molly’s eyes became like saucers, and her whole body froze. When the shock wore off, Molly closed her eyes, and reached up to tangle her fingers in Sherlock’s hair.

When they pulled apart, their eyes locked over a pregnant pause, which triggered snickers from the two.

Sherlock bit his lip. “I believe you mentioned something about a movie?”

Molly smiled. “Right.” She grabbed his hand, leading him to her room.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SQUEE! It finally happened! I know it was short, but I didn't want you all to go several weeks with no updates. Hopefully having two in one day makes up for it! I hope you're enjoying our adventure together. Leave a kudos, or tell me what you thought in a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> I know. I know. The chapters are ludicrously short, and the whole thing is a bit campy. This was my very first fic! Anyway, if you like it please leave a kudos and/or a comment. Feedback, both positive and negative is always appreciated, though remember this is a friendly community: if you are going to criticize, please do so constructively!  
> If you like, you can find me on Tumblr at: thewriterinallofus.tumblr.com


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